


C'est la vie

by Atheraa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Angst, Dark!Harry, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Master/Slave, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Canon, Post-Hogwarts, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Violence, slave!Tom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2020-09-30 20:56:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 23
Words: 32,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20453426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atheraa/pseuds/Atheraa
Summary: A unexpected accident delivers Voldemort into Dumbledore and Potter´s hands. They have the means to end the war, but how far are they willing to go?“Perhaps I should tell Lord Potter how I finally did manage to bring you to heel?” the man asked, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face as he let his thumb slide of Riddle´s bottom lip.





	1. Chapter 1

He woke to an unfamiliar surrounding. A bedroom he realised, an unfamiliar bedroom. White walls, a grey carpet on the floor. A window with bars in front. An open door looked like it led to a bathroom. Besides the bed there was a dresser, an armchair, a desk with a chair in front and a nightstand beside the bed. Also at trunk in at the foot of the bed he realised as he sat up. No wand on the nightstand he noticed. 

His head hurt like hell and he slowly lifted his hand to touch it, only to yank it away quickly as his hand came in contact with hair. Hair? What in Merlin´s name was going on? He looked at his hand. It was younger, healthier and normal looking. Unsure he looked at the other one that was identical. Something was really wrong. 

Slowly he made his way out of the bed. He was dressed in dark pants and a dark t-shirt, barefoot. He was quite sure he didn´t own any clothes like the ones he was currently wearing. 

He swayed as he stood and had to support himself against the foot of the bed until he was sure he could stand on his own. Carefully he wandered over to the door. It was of course locked. Well, seeing as no one would dare to lock him in a bedroom in his own house, he could be pretty sure he wasn´t at home. 

That meant someone, somehow captured him, not that he could remember being captured. He could not even remember anything about the last few hours. He did remember having a meeting scheduled. Had he gone to the meeting? Hadn´t someone gone with him? Snape of course! Snape had gone with him. Was this Snape´s doing? In which case the damn spy would pay. Still, he couldn´t remember Snape attacking him. And he was pretty sure he would have been more than capable to ward of an attack from the professor and kill him. 

If the Light had captured him then he should have been in Azkaban, being interrogated. And waiting for his followers to break him out. 

Irritated he raised his hand towards the lock and muttered an unlock spell under his breath. He couldn´t do advanced magic without his wand, but a few simple spells he could easily manage. The unlocking spell was one of them, which came in hand when people thought if they took away your wand and locked you up then you couldn´t get out. 

The moment he felt the magic in his body activate, he also felt like he got slammed against a brick wall. The pain was overwhelming. It felt like his whole body was in flames. He took a couple of steps back, hit the bed, and sank to the floor beside it in pain. He gasped and tried to breath through it. What the hell had happened? The pain was blinding and he could feel tears forming in his eyes. He curled in on himself and concentrated on breathing. In, hold, out, repeat. The pain didn´t lessen, if anything it became worse. He wanted to scream. It felt too much like the night when he had tried to kill he Potter brat and had been ripped from his body. 

He was still trying to get his body under control and did not notice the person entering the room. The pain swept through his body like tide waves with few seconds in between, each one stronger than the previous one. 

Then he suddenly felt a hand on his neck. 

“Easy, Tom, easy.” Then he heard a spell being uttered but couldn´t grasp the words. The pain lessened immediately. 

He gasped, and sputtered, but stayed kneeling on the floor next to the bed. He closed his eyes. The hand disappeared. 

He had recognised the voice. He also suddenly knew exactly where he was. The feeling of the castle was unmistakeable. How in the world of merlin had he arrived here? 

“What have you done you old fool?” He snarled, not opening his eyes. The moment the words left his mouth he felt a sting, like being hit with a stinging hex and an overwhelming feeling to apologise for the rudeness of his question. Confused over the feeling he ignored it. He opened his eyes and looked over the bed towards the armchair. 

The older wizard smiled towards him, folding his hands in his lap. No wand in sight. 

“I assume you have a lot of questions, Tom” 

Riddle considered reminding the man that his name wasn´t Tom, but was pretty sure it would be a waste of breath. He was also pretty sure he actually looked like Tom at the moment, even though he hadn´t looked in a mirror yet. How that was he didn´t know, but he assumed the man in front of him was somehow responsible. The question was why Dumbledore suddenly felt the need to make him look more human. Not that he necessarily complained, he had never liked the body Wormtail had manage to produce for him, but had not bothered to try and find a way to fix it. 

He didn´t answer, only waited for Dumbledore to continue. The pain was also almost gone, just a few strains of it lingering in his body. He felt exhausted after the ordeal, and as much as he hated kneeling on the floor with Dumbledore sitting on the other side of the bed, he couldn´t find the energy to stand. 

With a sigh he dragged a hand over his face, noting the fact that he actually had a nose, and though his hair. 

“I´m at Hogwarts I presume?” he finally asked, breaking the silence. 

“Yes.” 

“Why?” 

He looked over at Dumbledore and saw the damn twinkles in the older mans eyes. 

“Why what?” 

Riddle sighed again. He really wanted to kill the old fool. Perhaps he could strangle him? Or beat him to death before the Headmaster managed to get to his wand? On the other hand, he could barely stand at the moment so he doubted he would be a match for Dumbledore in this condition. 

“Why am I at Hogwarts?” 

“You were brought here.” 

Oh for the love of everything holly, what was this – playing 20 questions? He snarled and instantly regretted it when a pain flashed through his head. Confused he looked at Dumbledore but couldn´t se the man holding a wand. 

“You do realise you are putting the whole school in danger by having me here?” he demanded to know. “My followers will attack this school to bring me back.” 

“Perhaps,” Dumbledore seemed to concede. 

Something was very, very wrong here, Riddle thought. For the first time in as long as he could remember he felt a stab of fear. Speaking of emotions, he suddenly thought, why was he feeling anything? He couldn´t remember feeling anything but hunger for power and bloodlust since he came back. What the hell had the bloody old fool managed to do this time? 

“Why am I still alive? Why haven´t you had the Potter brat kill me?” 

Dumbledore actually smiled sadly this time to Riddles annoyance. 

“If it had been possible to kill you, Tom, we might have considered the option. I know about the Horcruxes you have made. We haven´t found all of them, so killing you at the moment is not an option.”

“How, what…” Riddle closed his mouth and swore loudly inside his own head. How the hell had the man managed to find out about those? 

“I assume you tried to open the door with wandless magic?” the old wizard asked. 

Riddle glared. What kind of hex had the man placed on the door? It had hurt like nothing he had experienced before, except from when he was torn from his body after trying to kill the Potter boy. 

“I would refrain from trying to do so again if I were you,” Dumbledore said and rose. He smooted his robes and walked towards the door. “I´ll be back later.” 

“Wait,” Riddle snapped angry, and winced as pain flash through his mind. What was going on? “How did I end up here?” 

Dumbledore had reached the door and opened it. He smiled towards Riddle and answered before leaving, “You got shot Tom, by a muggle gun. One, bullet I think Harry called it, to the shoulder and one grazed your head, rendering you unconscious.”


	2. Chapter 2

Riddle stared at the closed door. Shot? He knew what a gun was, unlike Dumbledore.

He tried again to remember what had happened. The meeting. He remembered having a meeting with a wizard who dealt in rare potions ingredients. That was why Snape had come with him. The man they were to meet was paranoid and demanded they have the meeting at a place chosen by the man. Had they met the man? He couldn´t remember. He was sure both him and Snape had apparated from the Malfoy mansion to a spot near the meeting place. The rest was completely blank.

It made sense though, in a twisted way. He would have sensed if there were any wizards or witches nearby by their magic. A muggle on the other hand he wouldn´t have noticed as they were meeting the man in the muggle world. The speed of a bullet would have caught him by surprise as all his wards on his own person was intended to detect spells, hexes and curses. Not metal bullets being fired from at muggle gun by a muggle.

If Dumbledore was telling the truth then he had been out cold and Snape, apparently finally haven chosen a side, had brought him to Dumbledore. They had healed him, that much was sure as he didn´t have a bullet wound in his shoulder or head – or had he healed himself as he was immortal? And then, what had happened then to return him to this body? To make his mind feel, _normal_, sane even. He was thinking more clearly now than he could remember doing in years. And then there were the blasted feelings that kept sneaking up on him.

Then there was the horcruxes. How the hell did Dumbledore know about those?

Carefully he rose to his feet and wandered into the bathroom. There was a toilet, a shower and a sink with a mirror over. Suddenly nervous he wandered over to the mirror. He closed his eyes before opening them and looking into the mirror.

A handsome face, around 30 stared back at him, black hair, smooth skin and striking blue eyes. It was strange. Like seeing an old friend one hadn´t seen in years. He carefully lifted his hand and touched his face. Feeling the smooth skin under his hand. What in the world hade Dumbledore done this time?

He returned to the bedroom and looked through the dresser and the trunk. The dresser was filled with clothes, while in the trunk he found nothing. The desk was empty as well. Frustrated he sat down in the window seat and leaned his head against the bars. He considered trying the unlocking spell on the door again, but thought better of it. The pain had been more than he wanted to experience again so soon.

Riddle let his mind wander and they landed on his followers. They would know he was missing by now. Hogwarts was not an easy target, but not impossible. Then again, it depended on what Snape had told them. Would they come for him? He wasn´t an idiot, he knew several of them hated him. That much had been clear when they hadn´t looked for him in the 13 years after he tried to kill Potter. Or would they disperse when he didn´t return, and return to their own lives and families?

He sighed. What was the point of wondering? He couldn´t do anything at the moment.

***

He must have fallen asleep with his head against the bars of the window for he jerked awake when the door to the room suddenly opened and Dumbledore came in, closing the door behind him. In his hands he held a tray with bread, cheese, fruits and a goblet.

Riddle tried to hide it, but the older wizard must, surely hear the growl his stomach made. He watched as Dumbledore sat the tray down on the bed and then sat down in the armchair.

_Kneel and thank him_. A strange voice in his head whispered. Riddle shook his head and looked again at Dumbledore, not seeing a wand in his hand. The voice, it kept returning. He didn´t understand where it came from, but again he ignored it. He also ignored the food and kept staring at Dumbledore.

“How long have I been here?”

“Almost a week.”

A week?! Riddle pulled his head back.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

Riddle rolled his eyes, it was a childish thing to do, but he couldn´t help himself.

“Why am I here and not in Azkaban?”

Dumbledore suddenly looked sad.

“You will be transferred to Azkaban tomorrow as you are now awake.”

Oh, marvellous, Riddle thought. Interrogation and torture here we come.

“Why didn´t my wandless magic work?” He asked instead of the question he wanted to ask. _What will happen there? _

He could see the older wizard hesitate.

“For Merlins sake, can´t you just give me the whole story?” He snapped in anger, wincing as another shot of pain hit him. What the hell kept giving him the short burst of pain?

Dumbledore looked unsure. Not a common look for him Riddle thought.

“Your magic is currently blocked,” the older man answered.

No kidding? Riddle thought. He had figured that much out himself.

“Are you really going to play this game you old fool?” he demanded in a high voice, standing up, wincing as another pain shot through him. What the hell was going on with the small bursts of pain? He couldn´t se that the old fool was doing anything to inflict them. _Kneel, apologise_, the voice whispered.

Dumbledore looked like he was considering his options.

Really pissed of Riddle lost his temper and stepped up to Dumbledore who rose from his seat as Riddle came closer. Riddle swung, intending on hitting the man but as soon as he tried the pain from earlier that day hit him. He gasped in pain as it washed over him. The thought to hit Dumbledore vanished instantly. The pain was as overwhelming as when he tried to unlock the door and he fell to his knees, catching himself against the floor with his hands. He cried out, the pain washing over him in waves. Tears were forming in his eyes.

Then he felt the same hand on his neck and a familiar spell being uttered. The pain started to fade but Riddle remained on his knees gasping for air.

A look up revealed that Dumbledore had once more sat down, leaving Riddle on his knees in front of him trying to pull himself together. An unfamiliar warm spread through him. _Good boy_, the strange voice murmured, filling him with contentment as if him kneeling before Dumbledore was what it wanted.


	3. Chapter 3

Riddle managed to get back up and sat down on the bed, cradling his head in his hands as he waited for the pain to ease of. 

“I´m sorry, Tom,” he heard Dumbledore say. Why was the man sorry? He should be jumping up and down in joy. He finally had the Dark Lord at his mercy, and wasn´t that a depressing thought. 

Riddle ignored him. 

“I don´t enjoy what I have done,” the man continued. 

“And, pray tell, what exactly have you done?” his voice was muffled by his hands, but he assumed Dumbledore could hear them. 

Before he could answer the door opened. Riddle lifted his head and groaned when he saw the person entering the room. Great. The only thing that could possibly have been worse was if the man had walked in while Riddle was still kneeling trying to get his breathing under control.   
Snape didn´t as much as look at him as he handed Dumbledore a vial before turning and leaving the room. 

Dumbledore smiled, rose and came towards the bed. Riddle felt himself stiffen, but Dumbledore simply handed him the vial before siting down again. The vial, Riddle saw, contained a pain-reducing potion. 

“Drink, dear boy. It will help with the pain.” 

The more interesting question is why I´m in pain in the first place, Riddle thought. He kept looking at the vial. For all he knew Snape had poisoned it. 

“We know the truth serum doesn´t work on you if you are wondering if the vial is dosed.” 

“I´m more concerned if Snape has poisoned it.” On the other hand, he couldn´t die so why should the man bother? He sighed, uncorked the vial and drank. Immediately he could feel the still lingering pain disappear. 

Thank him, came the voice again. Without thinking Riddle opened his mouth as he sat the vial down on the nightstand. 

“Thank you.” The same warm feeling came over him again, almost praising him for having done something right. 

“Of course,” Dumbledore smiled. “Eat please. You haven´t had anything solid to eat for a week so I thought it best to start with something light. 

Again the strange feeling came over him, encouraging him to what Dumbledore wanted. Eat, the voice whispered. As he reached for the tray the warm feeling returned again. He pulled his legs up on the bed and sat cross-legged with the tray balancing on his legs. Slowly he began picking at the food, taking bits of cheese and bread. The goblet contained something he recognized as pumpkin juice. His stomach was overjoyed at getting some food. 

It struck him how strange the setting in the room had to look, him sitting on the bed eating, Dumbledore in the armchair.

The door suddenly opened again, and Snape came in. This time Snape did meet his eyes. Looking calm and collected. No fear at being the one to betray the most powerful wizard of this time, Riddle thought irritated. 

“Severus,” he sneered. “I see you have finally chosen a side. Did you have the muggle shoot me or was it just a happy coincident?” 

Snape, much to Riddles annoyance ignored him. 

“You are needed in your office, sir,” he said to the Headmaster before leaving. 

“Ah, well enjoy your meal, Tom.” Dumbledore swept out of the room, closing the door behind him, leaving Riddle alone with his meal. 

Great. He was nowhere even close to figuring out what Dumbledore had done to him. 

His magic was somehow blocked apparently, and he was unable to hurt Dumbledore. The problem was that there wasn´t really a spell to block ones magic. The magic was a part of the wizard or witch. One couldn´t simply wave a wand and make the person unable to use it´s magic. If it had been possible, Riddle would have used the spell on the Potter boy years ago. Dumbledore was powerful, but not even he could do something like this. So how? 

Then there was the damned voice that kept whispering to him, wanting him to submit to Dumbledore apparently. That had to be a spell Dumbledore had put on him. Why? If he was turning him over to Azkaban in the morning there wasn´t much use for it. The spell only seemed to relate to Dumbledore as he had sneered at Snape without feeling any pain. 

He finished the last of the fruits and placed the tray on the desk. He was restless. His thoughts turned to Azkaban. It was easier to break into than Hogwarts. The Ministry also had to uphold the law, which meant they couldn´t torture him for information even if they wanted to. The law for fair treatment of prisoners had been in place for several decades. He was immune to the truth serum, so he couldn´t really see what the Ministery and Dumbledore hoped to gain from moving him to Azkaban. There was something he was missing. Something important. 

Dumbledore didn´t return that day, but the tray vanished and in the evening another one appeared. He ate and spent most of the day and evening staring out the window before finally falling asleep on the bed. 

He woke as the door swung open. Dumbledore entered followed by what he recognised as Aurors. Before he could open his mouth he saw Dumbledore raise his wand and he felt himself slip into darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

Dumbledore sighed for what felt like the hundred time that day. He again conjured up a watch and saw that it was still an hour until he needed to leave for Azkaban.

How long had it been now? Close to four months since he sent Tom of with the Aurors. Since Severus suddenly had appeared in his office with an injured, unconscious Tom Riddle, or Voldemort as he preferred.

He needed to come clean to the boy about what he had done to him. He had avoided the questions when the boy had woken. Now he was running out of time.

He tried to concentrate on work until it was time to leave for Azkaban. He barely managed.

He arrived at Azkaban perfectly on time. The Minister met him, flanked by two Aurors at he shores.

“Albus,” the Minister smiled, shaking his hand.

“Minister,” he replied politely.

“The papers are in the office, shall we?” He turned to leave.

Dumbledore followed.

“I assume everything is in order?”

“Yes, yes of course. You can take him with you afterwards.”

***

He heard the door of his cell open and curled up. Trying to melt into the wall in the corner he used for sleeping. He could hear several people approaching. He opened his eyes, but could of course not see anything.

“Out,” he heard a familiar voice command. He closed his eyes and swore. Dumbledore, of course it had to be him. Why was he here? The sound of several people walking away made him open his eyes again.

_Kneel. _He flinched at the voice. He hadn´t heard it since he left Hogwarts. The sound of Dumbledore coming closer made him push himself into a sitting position even though it hurt like hell to move. He actually ended up on his knees, using his right hand as support not to keel over. Apparently that was enough to satisfy the voice as he felt the warm feeling wash over him. He was dressed in a pair of pants, but that was it. He was pretty sure he looked like hell if how he was feeling was anything to go by.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” Riddle asked, voice hoarse from not being used for anything other than screaming. _Sir, _the voice added, apparently trying to be helpful.

“Look at me.”

Yeah, Riddle thought, which would be easier asked than done. He looked up, trying to guess where Dumbledore was standing. The warm feeling swept over him again.

“Tom, can you see me?”

Riddle tried to laugh, but ended up coughing.

“No,” he whispered once he had managed to get his breathing under control. _Sir, _the voice again helpfully added.

He could feel the anger rolling of Dumbledore, even if he couldn´t see the man. Riddle, tried to curl into a tighter ball. Why was the man angry? He hadn´t done anything.

“I´ll be back in a little while, Tom,” the Headmaster said before he could hear the cell door closing and he was left alone.

Dumbledore turned towards the Minister as soon as he was out in the hallway.

“What the hell have you been doing, you were to question him, not torturing him!”

The Minister looked perfectly calm. He even smiled.

“We needed answers”

“The law…” Dumbledore began but was cut of.

“Yes, the law relates to prisoners, not slaves. No one touched him before his status as a citizen of the Wizarding World of Britain and as a wizard was revoked and he became a slave owned by the Ministry. After that the Aurors have simply been, eh, training him to his new position. As the paperwork has now been signed and he is all his, as of today he is now his problem. I do hope he has read up on the law regarding slaves. It is old, but still in effect. If he can´t keep him under control then we will have to take him back. Good luck.” With that the man turned and left.

“Wait,” Dumbledore called. “Why can´t he see?”

The Minister turned. “oh, yes, just a spell, it can be easily lifted.”

“When did the paperwork regarding his status go through?”

“About three months ago.” The man disappeared up the stairs with his Aurors.

***

The door opened. He could hear it. One person coming in which he assumed was Dumbledore. He was still kneeling. Swaying as the blood loss and the pain overwhelmed him.

He heard footsteps closing in and a hand on his neck.

“Easy,” he heard Dumbledore mutter. He almost leaned into the touch. It felt good after months of being beaten and humiliated. Merlin he was pathetic. When a couple of months of torture could break him.

“Can you stand?” It was soon pretty obviously to them both that he couldn´t.

“I´m going to put you under for a little while,” Dumbledore said. Riddle didn´t answer but felt himself drift of to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I´m ignoring canon a bit as Dumbledore is still alive, and Harry has finished his years at Hogwarts and is now a professor...

He woke slowly in a familiar room. The same one he had been in before he was sent of to the Ministry. His body still hurt, but it seemed like all the wounds had been magically healed.

Compared to the cell he had been in the last months this was close to heaven.

Carefully he pushed himself from the bed and managed to stand, only just barely while supporting his weight on one hand leaning against the desk. The movement made his head swim. He lifted his hand to massage it as the door suddenly opened. His head shot up, seeing Dumbledore and the Potter brat. _Great. _

_KNEEL, _the voice suddenly commanded in a harsh voice, stronger than he had ever heard it before. It caught Riddle by surprise and he ended up kneeling before he really could catch up.

_Good, _the voice whispered.

_Go to hell, _Riddle replied.

“Ah, good, you are awake,” came the Headmaster’s cherry voice. Potter stayed standing at the door while Dumbledore entered, brushing his hand over Riddle´s head as he passed him to sit in the armchair. The slight touch sent a warm feeling washing over him.

Riddle opted for silence and waited for either of the other two occupants of the room to speak.

Potter took a couple of steps forwards, sitting on the bed before speaking.

“You have been sleeping for a week. The medic witch decided it was best to give your body time to heal.”

Riddle glanced at the younger man. He had grown out of the boyish looks he had had in school. Now he looked more adult. Sharper features, hair still wild and green eyes the colour of the killing curse. He had gown also. Riddle guessed they were the same height. How old was the boy now? Twenty? He knew he was da DADA teacher at Hogwarts, having opted to teach instead of becoming and Auror.

He would rather teach the next generation how to defend themselves than being part of the Ministry he did not trust. And it also meant he was at one of the most secure locations in Britain. Annoying enough when one was trying to kill the boy.

“You were pretty beat up, and some of the scares we can´t get rid of. You also had a broken leg, several fractures to your ribs, a nearly broken arm and sever blood loss. Your back was more or less a bloody mess with infections, as well as your legs, chest and arms. The damaged to your foot soles was extensive and you will probably have a hard time walking for a while.”

Riddle flinched. Yes, he remembered very well why they had damaged his foot soles to prevent him from standing and walking, or running. He was actually not sure he had been standing for the last couple of months. Then he caught sight of the dark glint in Potters eyes, and he could feel himself growing cold. The boy was enjoying this. He was enjoying the thought of Riddle in pain. The didn´t exactly bode well for the future. He could feel the boy´s magic shift and turn around Potter. It was darker than it had been before, and it felt like it was centred on hatred and vengeance.

“Now,” Potter continued, “the Minister is here to see if we actually can keep you under control.”

Riddle swallowed, great, just the way to start the day.

“I´m sure you agree that it would be in your best interest to stay here, therefore I also expect you to be on your best behaviour. Of course if you prefer to go back there, then I´m not going to stop you.”

_Yes, you are, _Riddle thought. _You want me here because you are enjoying this far more than I thought the Golden Boy would._

“Excellent,” Potter said and rose. “Shall we?” He headed for the door.

Behind Riddle Dumbledore rose and helped Riddle to his feet, keeping him steady until he found his balance and it was clear he wouldn´t fall over. Riddle carefully tried to take a step, holding his breath and waiting to fall over, but Dumbledore kept him steady and they slowly walked out of the room.

Riddle really wanted to tell Dumbledore to unhand him, but he was also pretty sure that he then would fall over. Instead he accepted the help. He really felt pathetic at the moment, but he had tortured enough prisoners himself to know that three months of beatings and humiliation would effect everyone, even him. Especially when he didn’t have his magic to hide in.

“They didn´t want to know anything,” he whispered, his voice still sore and raspy after having been used for nothing than screaming for three months.

“Who?” Dumbledore asked, waiting as the statue revealed the stairs leading up to his office.

“The Ministry,” Riddle rasped. “They never questioned me. They didn´t want to know anything about strategies, the Death Eaters or anything else.”

Dumbledore didn´t say anything and Riddle was lost as to it was because he already knew that, or didn´t care, or because he was angry with the Ministry. He could feel the old mans magic shift and darken, indicating that the man was angry.

They arrived at the Headmaster´s office and found Potter sitting in one of the chairs in front of a low table. On the other side was the Minister, and two of the Aurors. On table there was a tray with tee and biscuits and grapes. Potter had ha plate in front of him with a couple of biscuits and a napkin on. In front of both him and the Minister there was a cup of tee. The Minister was just taking a sip from his as Riddle and Dumbledore came in.

Dumbledore let go of his arm and he managed to walk over to Potter without falling.

_Kneel_, the voice whispered. It was awfully predicable that voice, Riddle thought as he kneelt down beside the chair in silence and felt the humiliation rise. He could feel the Minister´s magic turn and twist with a perverse dominance, glee and something else. Riddle couldn´t quite put his finger on the feeling. He had felt it before when around the man.

Potters magic emitted the same feeling of dominance; it was also displaying confidence and superiority, a strange mix for someone so young.

“As you can see, he is quite obedient,” Potter said, letting one of his hands slide through Riddle hair, sending a warm, pleasing feeling through the dark haired boy kneeling next to him.

Riddle felt himself turn red with humiliation.

“Yes, but how are you sure you can keep him under control?” The Minister drawled. “He is quite known for his ability to manipulate the people around him.”

Riddle could feel Potter smirking through his magic.

“Trust me, he won´t go against my orders.”

“Prove it,” the Minister challenged and Riddle could see him leaning forward.

Potters magic turned superior and darkened. Then he felt a hand in his hair pulling at it slightly.

“Tom I give you permission, just this once, to levitate my napkin up from the table.”

Riddle looked up, surprised. By the sound across for the table, so was the Minister.

“He doesn´t have a wand Mr. Potter,” came the condescending voice of the Minister.

This time Riddle could se Potter smirk.

“And you think the Dark Lord, one of the most powerful wizards of all time, can´t do wandless magic?” he all but purred. Then he looked down at Riddle who was frowning in confusion. He remembered the last time he had tried to use magic.

“Go on,” Potter encouraged.

Still uncertain he looked at Dumbledore who nodded. He knelt up and extended his hand towards the napkin muttering the levitation spell under his breath. He felt himself connect with his magic and nearly gasped in pleasure. It whirled around him like a cloak, filling his body with warmth and peace. It twisted and turned and reached out to the napkin making it lift from the table. In a moment of pure defiance he showed of by making it fold it self into a crane that flew over and landed in Potters hand. Potters magic shifted with something akin to pride as he looked at the crane in his hand, which was fluttering its wings and turning it´s head.

The Ministers magic flashed with a feeling of being impressed, before quickly disappearing.

“Ask him to levitate something else,” Potter purred, setting the crane on the table.

Riddle suddenly realised what would happen and shrank back from the Potter boy.

“Levitate my cup,” The Minister commanded.

Riddle hesitated, he knew what would happen when he tried, he also understood why the Minister had to be the one to command him, Potter couldn´t do it as the magic then would taken that as a permission to do so.

A hand pulled warningly at his hair, and he could feel the spell in his body trying to decide if he was misbehaving. He could either try to levitate the cup and take the pain, or not, which the spell would take as disobedience and punish him anyway. Damn if you do, damned if you don´t, Riddle thought.

His hand was shaking slightly he noted with irritation as he extended his hand towards the cup and muttered the spell. Instead of the warm feeling of connecting with his magic it again felt like he was slammed into a brick wall. His breath was knocked from him as the pain washed over him, setting his nerves on fire. He curled up and bit his lip trying not to scream as wave after wave washed over him, each one worse than the previous. He could swear the pain was even worse this time around. He couldn´t do anything but try and breathe through the pain.

“How long does it last?” he heard the Minister ask.

“Until it´s lifted by myself or Dumbledore or he blacks out.”

Potter was making no move to lift the spell, and Riddle finally gave up and screamed in pain, curling even tighter. He was pretty sure this was worse than the Crucio spell.

“Harry.” He heard Dumbledore’s voice through the haze of pain.

“Yes, yes.” He heard Potter mutter and than there was a hand on his neck and the familiar spell was uttered. Immediate the pain disappeared. Leaving only traces in it´s wake. Riddle gasped and stayed kneeling with both hands supporting his weight on the floor. He sucked in a breath and tried to get his body under control. He was shaking all over.

“Impressive. He is quite beautiful when in pain” he heard the voice of the Minister somewhere above him. His magic again twisting again around the feeling Riddle couldn´t quite grasp what was. “It´s an interesting spell. I would like to know more about it as it could become quite useful.”

Potter laughed. “It´s not a common spell, Minister. It takes quite the powerful wizard to cast it, and it´s more complex than an average spell. I´ll be happy to tell you more another day.”

“Good, good,” the Minister answered. He seemed to completely having missed the insult, Riddle thought.

He managed to get his breathing under control and moved back to sitting on his legs, still with one hand supporting his weight on the floor. He too was curious about the spell. The shaking did not stop however.

“And this happens every time he goes against an order or fails to follow one?”

“Yes, or if he is being impolite he will get a smaller burst of pain.”

“Excellent, well it looks like you have everything under control, Mr. Potter. We will stop bye every now and then to check in, for your own safety of course.”

“Of course,” Potter smiled, his magic once more turning dark and dangerous. Riddle shuddered. Something was very, very wrong.


	6. Chapter 6

After the Minister left Potter and Dumbledore continued to speak. Both of them ignoring him and Riddle felt the events of the day taking it´s toll on him. He must have fallen asleep at some point because when he opened his eyes again he was laying on a couch in Dumbledore´s office, a pillow under his head, and a blanket over him.

His eyes felt like they were filled with sand, and his body felt like it had been put through a meat grinder. He lifted his head a couple of inches to look around and saw Dumbledore sitting at his desk working. No sight of Potter.

Dumbledore looked up as he heard movement from the couch.

“Welcome back,” he smiled and rose to walk around the desk and towards the couch.

Riddle shrunk back as the man extended a hand to slide through his hair.

“Easy,” I´m not going to hurt you,” Dumbledore muttered and produced a vial from one of his pockets. “Pain-reducing potion,” he explained when Riddle stared at it.

Riddle only nodded and accepted the vial, drinking the whole thing before handing it back.

“Thank you,” he whispered before the annoying voice in his head managed to say anything. He could feel the effect immediately as it swept through his body.

“Harry will be back to collect you after his meeting.”

“Why…” Riddle started, but couldn´t finish the sentence.

“It was he or the Ministry. They would not accept anyone else.”

Great, Riddle thought, closing his eyes.

“The spell,” he started.

He heard Dumbledore sigh, the magic around him turning uncertain as if he was debating what to tell him and not, he could see it even with his eyes closed.

“Please,” Riddle whispered, hating himself for pleading. Dumbledore sat down on the table in front of the couch.

“It´s very old magic, Tom,” he began. “It´s not spells or curses per say. It is not possible to bind ones magic as you very well knows. The only way to do this was to do a bonding ritual to bind you to Harry, and myself so that we can order you not to use your magic. It´s not blocked as I led you to believe, but you will experience pain if you try to use it, as you would if you try to defy us or go against our orders as that is what we have decided will happen.”

Riddle swore inside. Blood magic. “Bonding requires consent,” he whispered. He sure as hell had not give his consent. 

“You have Harry´s blood inside you, after you used it at the graveyard. That made it possible for him to consent on your behalf, although this ritual did not demand consent, only your presence.”

“What kind of bonding ritual?”

“As I said, it´s very old.”

“What kind of ritual?!” Pain flashed in him, as he demanded the answer. Suddenly he knew. It was old, old as time itself. Used centuries ago when Wizards had kept slaves in form of other magical beings. It bound the creature to its master for good. That explained the overly helpful voice in his head. The bond made the creature submissive to it´s master, making it impossible for the submissive to go against the will of the master. It was also illegal to use it. What was worse was that there was no way to reverse it.

In all the time it had been used, no one had managed to reverse the boding ritual. It was created to be used on creatures and not humans, and as fare as he knew, had never been used on at wizard or witch. Wormtail had used Naigini to bring him back, making him part snake as his appearance at the time had confirmed. That was why the bond had worked. The bond recognized him as being part magical creature. And as his magic was denied him, he had yet again taken the appearance of Tom Riddle as he couldn´t tap into the magic that made him look like Voldemort.

“That ritual is illegal, and have never been used on humans,” he snapped, wincing at the pain that shot through him

He could feel Dumbledore’s magic shift, from embarrassed to guilty.

“Yes, that is way we kept you under for a week. We needed that time to get permission from the Ministry to use it. We got it with the demand that they first could question you, and that we could prove that it worked, which was why the Minister was here today.”

Riddle was for once speechless. There was nothing he could do to fix this. The ritual could not be reversed. Dumbledore could literally forbid him from leaving the couch and he if he tried the pain would stop him. The pain that could only be lifted by Dumbledore or Potter, or when he blacked out. And he would remain unconscious until his “master” brought him back if he remembered correctly.

“I´m sorry, my dear boy.”

Riddle sputtered. “You are sorry?”

“Yes.”

“What now, are you only keeping me around until you find all my horcruxes and then you can kill me?” Realisation dawned on him. “You are looking for them. You want to destroy them and then kill me!” The pain flashed again.

Dumbledore lifted his hands. “Tom, think. If that was what we wanted we could order you to give them up and you would tell us eventually.”

That was actually a good point, Riddle thought.

“The ritual, you said I bound me to both him and you.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Yes, but the ownership papers are in Harry´s name.”

_Ownership_, Riddle thought. He knew it was possible, by law, to strip a wizard of his status as a wizard and citizen of the wizarding world and Britain. It had only been practiced a few times since the law had been put in place over a thousand years ago. It demanded the unanimous vote from the board of the full court, as well as the Ministry´s blessing. It also demanded that the accused had committed at terrible crime, which made the removal as a citizen acceptable instead of the Dementors kiss or execution by other means. As he couldn´t die, the Dementors kiss was not an option, nor was execution.

“And you managed to plan all this in a week after I was accidently shot and brought here?” He opened his eyes.

Dumbledore meet his eyes. “Yes.”

“Why do all this instead of just sending me to Azkaban?”

The older mans magic darkened. “No, that wouldn´t have been an option.”

Riddle suddenly understood why. “If you just had sent me to Azkaban my followers would have broken me out, but doing as you did, none of them will try to get me back as I´m tainted and useless.” The admission made him cold. No one would come for him. They couldn´t risk bringing his “masters” and the Ministry back to the hiding place. And as his magic was blocked he was also completely useless.

Dumbledore nodded. Sorrow was replacing the darkness colouring his magic.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short chapter 7.... next one will be longer, but you have gotten three chapters in one day :)

Potter came back after a while. Riddle had fallen asleep again, exhausted after his talk with Dumbledore. He awoke to a felling of a hand playing with his hair. Slowly he opened his eyes and looked up into Potters green one.

“Hey, sleepy,” Potter smiled. His magic was easy, content and confident.

“Time to go,” Potter said and stood, waiting for Riddle to get up. He managed to get to his feet and follow Potter down the stairs and through the castle until they reached the chambers belonging to the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. Harry muttered a password to the portrait, Riddle too fare gone in his own mind to notice what it was. Then they were inside.

Riddle stopped just inside the entrance. The room was warm and comfy. A fireplace too his left with two chairs in front and a side table in the middle, to his right was a couch, table and to chairs. Further in was a small kitchen with a dining table. There were three doors leading away from the common room.

Unsure he stayed just inside the entrance.

_Kneel,_ came the ever-helpful voice, but this time he followed its advice and sank to his knees. _Good boy_, the voice whispered, sending the familiar warm feeling over him.

Harry disappeared in one of the doors before returning sometime later. He saw Riddle kneeling and smiled, his whole magic lit up with glee, Riddle noticed.

He watched at Harry sat down at the dining table.

“Come here.” The voice commanded.

Still unsure, Riddle rose and knelt down again beside the chair Potter was sitting in.

“Good,” the younger man praised. Again his magic light up with glee.

A couple of moments later a house-elf showed up and left, coming back with Potters wishes for evening supper. Riddle tried to ignore that he was hungry himself.

Potter ate and it wasn´t until a piece of meat appeared in front of his face he caught on.

_No fucking way_, he thought.

“I´m not a fucking pet, Harry! I won´t eat from your hand!” The moment his words left him, the pain set in, stronger, even more powerful than earlier. He screamed and twisted. The pain continued. After what felt like forever and as he was on the brink of passing out it was lifted. Panting, and heaving and sputtering he laid on the floor.

Then he heard the voice laugh.

“Thank merlin there is at least a part of you left..”

Riddle somehow managed to get back up on his knees. He wasn´t sure how, and it hurt like hell, but he managed.

The voice in his head was strangely silent.


	8. Chapter 8

“Sit at the table, Tom, if you want something to eat.”

_What? _Riddle looked up.

“Chair, sit, please. There is no way you will manage to eat a plate of food on the floor.”

Carefully he rose and took the seat next to Potter. As soon as he sat a plate with cheese, bread, fruits and butter appeared in front of him.

“Eat,” Potter muttered while tucking into his own food a steak with potatoes, greens and sauce.

“Your stomach can´t handle heavy food at the moment so you are on a light diet for a couple of days. Bread, fruits, soup you get the picture,” he waved with the fork. “Now eat, it´s not going to kill you. Actually nothing can kill you as it were,” he laughed a little.

“Sorry about trying to hand feed you, I was just trying to figure out just how broken you really are.”

_Couldn´t just have asked_? Riddle thought while taking another bread piece and placing some cheese on it.

“I think we managed to fool the Minister at least. Sadistic man that one. Dumbledore wouldn´t have left you in Azkaban this long if he had known what the man was planning.”

Riddle stared. It had all been an act? He had a bit of a hard time believing everything was an act. Potters magic, it had shown his feelings. Normally not something someone could fake.

“I guess we fooled you as well?” The younger man smiled sheepishly.

Riddle looked at the magic surrounding Potter, looking for signs of it being a lie. The magic was lazy twirling and twisting, content, amused, a bit of concern but no hint of the blackness that had been present earlier. Or? There was something, hidden, a darkness that he could´t really see, more feel. 

“What are you looking at?” Potter asked, turning to look behind him.

“Your magic,” Riddle answered honestly.

“My magic?” The boy´s eyes grew. “You can see my magic? What does it look like?” He was eager now, leaning forward over the table, his magic shifting into curiosity and hunger for information.

“It´s like a feather light cloak that twists and turns around you almost like the tail of a cat. It´s usually black, but there can be other colours depending on your mood and feelings.”

“Cool,” Potter smiled, taking another bit of his food as Riddle continued to eat his own food.

“Have you always been able to see other peoples magic?”

“No,” Riddle shook his head, “It started after I woke up here the first time. I´m guessing it is a result of the ritual you and the old fool did.” He winced as the pain shot through at the same time as Potter glared.

“Tom,” he snapped and the pain intensified.

“I´m sorry,” Riddle gritted out through the pain that immediately lessened.

“I understand Dumbledore told you about the ritual?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Amazing the Ministry even agreed to it. The Minister mostly just wanted to lock you up in a cell somewhere and forget all about you.

Somehow Riddle thought that forgetting about him was probably the last thing the Minister would have done if the time he had spent Azkaban were anything to go by.

They both finished their meal and the plates disappeared. Riddle tried to hide a yawn, but Potter noticed.

“You are probably exhausted, why don´t you lay down on the couch while I finish a couple of things.”

Riddle nodded and moved to the couch. He curled up in on of the ends and pulled a pillow under his head.

He felt confused and unsure, but before he could manage to think more about Potter´s strange behaviour he drifted of.

The sound of low voices woke him up later; he pretended to sleep and listened. Someone had also put a blanket over him while he slept he noticed.

“I brought you the potions you asked for,” he heard Snape´s voice.

“Good, thank you Professor.”

“How is he?”

It sounded like Potter hesitated.

“Exhausted naturally. He has been sleeping in between everything today. He is confused and unsure, which is natural. Trying to adjust to everything.”

“You managed to deceive the Minister?”

Potter laughed. “Yeah, I think we managed. Managed to fool Tom as well as it were. Dumbledore has told him about the ritual. Right now he needs time to put everything together before we can continue. He´s not used to not being the on in control.”

Snape snorted. “You don´t say. Are you sure this is a good idea, Potter? It´s not a pet you have acquired, it´s one of the most ruthless and powerful wizards of all time. If the roles had been reversed he would have threated you worse than a slave. He would have relished showing you of, dragging you with him as a trophy and symbol of his power. He would have tortured you just for the fun of it.”

“Well, that kind of explains why he keeps expecting me to do the same.”

There was a sound of glass being set down on something.

“I brought more pain reducing potions as I understand he keeps triggering the bond. Blood replenishing potion, he needs to take one a day for the next two days. Dreamless sleeping draught.”

“Sleeping potion?” Potter sounded confused.

“His body might be healed, but we have no idea about the damage to his mind. The muggles have a term for it I believe.”

“Yes,” Potter said, “PTSD, post traumatic stress syndrome.”

“Correct. I would not be surprised if he was having nightmares.”

“Dark Lords dream?” Potter sounded amused at the thought.

Snape sighed. “Yes, Potter. He is still human. Or more or less human,” the Potion master corrected himself. “He had nightmares before as well. It was not uncommon for him to demand a sleeping potion in the middle of the night. I took to having a stock available at his place to avoid him summoning me in the dead middle of the night.”

“He can see my magic.”

“What do you mean, see your magic?”

“He said it´s like a feather light cloak twisting and turning around me. He can apparently tell my mood and in some degree feelings from it. He compared it to the tail of a cat that twists and turns around me.”

“Strange,” Snape sounded interested. “I´ve never come across that before. As he always been able to do that?”

“No, apparently it started after the ritual was done.”

“Albus might know something about it. I understand he has more or less behaved himself?”

“He is quiet. Seems to be trying to make sense of things. I´m assuming he will become a bit more like himself after a couple of days.”

“Make sure he doesn´t harm the students,” Snape muttered. “I still can´t believe Albus managed to get the Ministry to agree to have him here. Even more surprising he managed to convince the parents of the students that their kids are safe here.”

“People are more interested in the fact that the war is over apparently.”

“Yes.”

“Did you bring the last item?”

“Yes, and I can assure you he is probably going to try and kill you before he lets you put this on him.”

“Unfortunately he won´t have a choice in the matter.”

Riddle felt himself grow curious.

“Well, if that was all?”

“Yes, Professor. Thank you very much.”

The door opened and closed and Riddle let himself drift of again.


	9. Chapter 9

“I´m not a pet!” Riddle snapped, ignoring the pain that hit him.

In front of him Potter sighed.

“Stop being childish, Tom.”

Riddle glared, earning himself another burst of pain.

Potter sighed. “Fine. Tom, kneel,” he ordered pointing to the floor in front of him.

The bond activated immediately, waiting on him to do as ordered. The pain also started to swim in the back of his head, warning him. Growing stronger the longer he took to obey.

“If you trigger the bond I´m not going to stop it, I´ll let it run it´s course until you pass out.”

Riddle could see the magic darken and twist and twirl faster and more angrily. He sank to his knees. The pain immediately went away and was replaced by warmth.

“Good.” Potter stepped up and placed the collar around his neck, locking it in place. It was leather, black and soft like butter. In the front was the symbol of the Potter family. Riddle hated it.

“Be happy I don´t use the leash that comes with this,” Potter muttered. “In accordance with the law you are not allowed into public without a collar and leash, lucky for us this school doesn´t count as a public place.”

“Am I allowed outside these rooms now?”

“Yes, but you are not to torment, scare or do anything to the students in anyway, or anyone else for that matter. You will be polite and behave yourself. You are not allowed outside the school grounds and you are not allowed to go down to the Chamber of Secret. Be back in time for dinner. And bring a cloak with you, it´s December.”

Riddle all but bolted from the room after retrieving a cloak.

He slowed his walk as he reach the ground floor. It was late afternoon and most of the students was probably doing their homework or relaxing in the common rooms. He headed for the doors, stepping out into fresh air for the first time in months. Slowly he filled his lungs with air, enjoying the feeling of the sharp winter air. The ground was covered in snow and the darkness had already settled.

It became a habit after that to take a stroll around the grounds in the afternoon. He enjoyed the time alone, just walking. Potter was busy teaching and Dumbledore with whatever he spent his time doing. The students avoided him, and scurried away as they saw him. The teachers mostly also ignored him.

Christmas was nearing and the castle was filled with Christmas decorations. Riddle hated Christmas. Potter seemed to love it by the way he kept decorating his rooms.

He walked back into the castle, strolling along the corridors with out a plan as to where he was going. As he rounded a corner he nearly walked straight into a tall, blond man. Surprised he took a step back looking at the man in front of him.

“Lucius,” he said in surprise.

The blond backhanded him, and before he could regain his balance, he felt the cane the other man always carried with him, connect with the back of his knees, sending him crashing to the ground. He swore as his head hit the stones and curled up.

“Potter´s little pet I see,” the blond sneered as Riddle lifted a hand to touch his face. Feeling the taste of blood strain his lips.

“You should now how to address your better by now. I´ll be sure to let your master know about this.” With that Lucius disappeared down the hallway, leaving Riddle on his knees, blood from his split lip running down his face.

A shadow fell over him and Riddle moved backwards until his back hit the wall. Snape stood over him. Unsure Riddle remained on the floor, he wasn´t exactly sure where he stood with his previous Potion Master.

“Mr. Riddle, out walking as usual.” Snape offered him a hand and helped him to his feet.

Riddle looked at the magic surrounding the man. It was calm, nothing threatening about it.

“Yes, Professor.” He wondered if he should remind the man that slaves didn´t have last names.

“Come.” The man turned walking down the hallway, his cloak billowing behind him.

Riddle followed. Lucius must have been visiting Snape and was on his way to leave when he had run into Riddle. He stopped just inside the door. It swung shut behind him, making him jump.

“Sit,” the man pointed towards two armchairs in front of a blazing fireplace. On the table between them was a bottle of firewhishey and two glasses.

Riddle didn´t move.

Snape was looking through something on his desk.

“I´m assuming Potter hasn´t forbidden you to use the furniture, Riddle. Sit down.”

Riddle slowly walked over and sat down in one of the chairs. The heat from the fireplace was pleasant. Beside him the two used glasses disappeared and two new ones showed up. He could hear Snape moving behind him. Then the Potion Master came to stand in front of him. A hand was placed under his chin and Riddle recoiled as if he had been struck.

“Easy,” Snape muttered, once more taking a hold of his chin lifting it to look at the damage Lucius had done. A quick spell and Riddle could feel the pain in his face disappear.

Snape sat down in the other chair and poured two glasses of whiskey. He hesitated for a moment looking up.

“Are you allowed alcohol?”

Riddle shrugged. He had no idea.

“None of them has said I can´t drink.”

Snape nodded and handed him one of the glasses. Riddle started at the amber liquid searching the bond for signs that it wouldn´t like this.

“How are you sleeping?”

Of all the questions in the world, Riddle thought, that had to be the last one he had expected from the man.

“Are we really going to sit here, and drink and pretend that all this isn´t your fault?” Suddenly angry he put the glass down hard on the table. The bond was silent, no pain.

Snape drank from his glass.

“Why, Severus? Did you plan this? Or was it just an opportunity that fell into your lap?!”

Riddle rose to his feet and started to walk, his anger rising.

“Was the shooting really accidently or did you plan this?! And instead of bringing me back you brought me to the damned old fool,” the pain shot through him, “and his Golden Boy. Trust me Severus if I ever find a way out of this mess you have created I´ll torture you with in an inch of your life!” Riddle realised he was screaming, but didn´t give a damn.

“You have ruined everything I´ve worked for! Everything I´ve spent my life trying to accomplish. For what Severus? To be able to teach?!” Without thinking he took the first thing he saw, which was a crystal ball and hurled it at Snape as hard as he could. At the same moment the bond caught up and he screamed in pain as he fell to the floor. Damned it. The pain shot through him, slowly getting worse and worse.

He didn´t know how long he had been in pain before he felt at hand on his neck and the spell being spoken. The pain lessened but he stayed curled up on the floor, shaking, crying and trying to get his breath under control.

He heard voices over him. It sounded like Potter and not Dumbledore had been summoned.

“I´m sorry, Professor. If I had known he would do this I hadn´t let him out today.”

A hand on his arm lifted him to his feet and Potter forced him to walk back to the rooms.

“Don´t say a word,” Potter said, his voice low and angry, his magic dark as midnight.

As they reached the rooms Potter threw him to the floor in the middle of the room.

“Stay!”

Riddle gathered his robes and cloak around himself, managing to get to his knees.


	10. Chapter 10

Riddle used the back of his hand to dry his eyes. He was still shaking he noticed, both from the punishment and from fear. Why the hell had he lost his temper like that?

The door behind him opened and Dumbledore came in. Riddle could see the anger rolling of the man, his magic angry and tense, shifting rapidly from one side to another. He actually couldn´t remember ever seeing the man this angry. His eyes landed on Riddle who had to look away, turning his eyes towards the floor.

Dumbledore stopped in front of him. A hand grabbed his hair and turned his head upwards.

“You are supposed to be one of the most brilliant wizards of our time!” The voice was ice cold, anger dripping from it. The hand in his hair let go and Dumbledore continued into the room and disappeared into the same room as Potter. After a while they both came back out. Dumbledore took place in one of the armchairs while Potter stood behind it.

“Come here, Tom.” Dumbledore´s voice was hard.

Riddle hesitated for a moment. Feeling the pain starting to come to life.

“Now!”

Slowly he stood and walked over to the chair.

“Down.”

He lowered himself to his knees in front of his two masters, feeling fear and humiliation rush through him. He had really never seen Dumbledore this angry.

“What the hell were you thinking? What if this had been anyone other than Snape? The Minister would have been here to pick you up with in the hour. If you rather want to be in Azkaban you only have to say so.”

Riddle swallowed.

“Luckily for us it was Severus. This is not acceptable Tom. I can´t have you running around the castle if you can´t behave like a grown up. If you can´t behave, then you will be treated as what you are, a slave, until we can be sure that you actually can behave yourself around other people and be trusted on your own. You will apologise, properly, to Severus in the morning. Well, do you have something to say?”

Riddle bit his lip.

“I´m sorry,” he whispered.

“I´m sorry, what, Tom? You are a slave, address your superiors correctly.”

Riddle closed his eyes. Great. This was quickly going from bad and straight to hell.

“I´m sorry, sir,” he tried, hoping to get of easy. The pain hit him instantly.

“Tom, you are trying my patience.”

“I´m sorry, master,” he managed to force the word out without choking on it.

“Good.”

Dumbledore stood and Riddle couldn´t help but shrink back. The man left leaving Potter and Riddle alone.

“I´ve actually never seen the man so angry before,” Potter commented.

_Me neither_, thought Riddle.

“You can be really stupide sometimes, Tom. Snape told me about Malfoy. I do hope this punishment will make you see the freedom you actually have had.”

Potter came around the armchair Dumbledore had been seated in and sat down in it.

Riddle pulled the cloak tighter around himself.


	11. Chapter 11

He found both Potter and Dumbledore sitting at the kitchen table when he emerged from the bedroom the next morning. Both had a cup of tea and empty plates from breakfast in front of them. Potter´s magic was calm and relaxed as he read the newspaper. Dumbledore´s on the other hand still flashed with anger.

Unsure he knelt down inside the door to the living room. The voice in his head stayed silent for once.

Dumbledore looked over at him before standing.

“Good, come along, Tom.”

Riddle threw a look at Potter, but the man was more interested in his newspaper and didn´t look up. He rose and followed the Headmaster. He could guess where they were going.

Snape looked up from his work as Dumbledore and Riddle entered his office, glancing from Dumbledore to Riddle and back.

“Good morning, Headmaster,” the Potion Master offered. Riddle tried not to be offended at not been greeted, he had after all tried to hit Severus with a rather heavy crystal ball the other night.

“Good morning, Severus.”

“What do I owe the pleasure?” The Potion Master leaned back in his chair, after putting his quill back in the inkpot.

Dumbledore turned and fixed Riddle with a stern look. Riddle looked away but came forward, dragging his feet. As he came into touching distance Dumbledore reached out, took a hold of his upper arm, pulling him forward to stand in front of the desk.

Riddle wondered if he was supposed to kneel, but opted for trying to avoid it, this would be humiliating enough as it was. He took a deep breath. Merlin, he felt like he was 12 years old, being scolded for having been rude to one of his teachers. He was one of the most powerful wizards in the world for Merlin´s sake. _You were one of the most powerful wizards in the world_, a voice whispered. _No you´re just another prisoners with no power. _

_Oh, shut up,_ Riddle thought. He wasn´t getting out of apologising to the man, the bond would make sure of that. At that moment he hated his previous transfiguration professor more than anything else in the world.

He was really pathetic. No wonder Lucius had dared to do what he did. The Malfoy Lord would do anything not to be associated with the Death Eaters once it was clear he would be on the loosing side if he did. Instead he would do what he did the last time, plead innocence too safe the family name.

“Tom,” came Dumbledore´s voice, breaking through his thoughts.

Yes, the damned apologise. He took a breath.

“I´m sorry for loosing my temper, Professor, and for throwing the crystal ball at you. I hope you can forgive me.” Humiliation flashed through him. He kept his eyes on the floor. He actually had no idea if the ball had hit it´s target come to think of it.

“You´re forgiven.”

“Good,” Dumbledore said, letting go of Riddle´s arm. “Then he is all yours for the rest of the day, Severus.”

_What_? Riddle turned towards the man. He was leaving him with Severus for the day?

“Behave, and do as you are told,” Dumbledore said before leaving. Great, now the damned bond would monitor his every movement and words to make sure he followed the order.

“I´m guessing he was absolutely furious last night?” came the voice behind him.

Riddle turned again towards the Potion Master, meeting his eyes before looking away towards the door again. He felt uncomfortable in the Potion Masters presence. The history they shared made the whole thing even stranger, and he didn´t know how to act towards the other man.

“I´ve never seen him that angry,” Riddle finally admitted. “Did I hit you with that ball?”

“No, you aim wasn´t that good, Riddle.” Snape rose and walked over to the table in front of the fireplace. He returned with two glasses of firewhiskey. He handed one of them to Riddle, who looked up, surprised.

“A bit early in the morning perhaps?” he ventured, raising an eyebrow.

Snape just drank his in one movement and filled the glass again.

“I´m not teaching today, and if I´m going to spend my day with you I need a drink or two. As this is just plain weird.”

Riddle just raised his hand in salute and drank his. Snape filled it again and they both finished of their second glass.

The alcohol burned down his throat, spreading a warm feeling in is stomach. He hadn´t eaten breakfast he suddenly remember, and two glasses of whiskey on an empty stomach probably wasn´t the smartest thing in the world.

He looked into the empty glass before looking up at Snape.

“So, what is this then, detention?”

Snape, having just taken another sip of his glass, choked on the whiskey and started coughing. Once he recovered he smiled mockingly.

“Would you rather prefer your normal way of punishing people who makes mistakes?”

No, Riddle thought, he wouldn´t. “It would have been illegal for Dumbledore to torture me,” he reminded the other man, not to mention Dumbledore´s pure heart wouldn´t allow him.

“Yes, it would for him, but not for Potter.”

Riddle frowned.

“Slaves don´t have the rights of wizards. Potter can to what ever he wants to his own property.”

“And don´t you just love the predicament you have managed to put me in!” Riddle sneered. Instantly regretting it as the pain flashed through him making him gasp and put a hand around his stomach. The pain faded slowly and Riddle straightened.

Snape was watching him intently.

“The bond?”

Riddle nodded, pushing a hand through his hair.

“Quite effective.”

Riddle nodded again. “Yes, to bad I couldn´t have used it on Potter. It would have won me the war. Another thing to hate Wormtail for, having messed up my resurrection. What did happen to my followers, Professor?”

Snape made a face. “I´m not allowed to tell you anything regarding that, you will have to aske one of your masters.”

“Don´t call them that,” Riddle snap. The pain flashed.

Snape smiled. He returned to his desk, leaving Riddle standing with the glass in his hand in the middle of the room. He watched as the man sorted some of his papers before straightening.

“Yes, lets get to work. Come along, _my Lord_,” the last two words were sneered as he moved towards a door at the back of the office. Riddle followed him, finding himself in a potion lab.

“The medical wing needs more healing potions and as I´m behind on my work Dumbledore offered to have you help me. You are after all a brilliant potion master when you put your mind to it.”

Riddle stared. Potion brewing didn´t require a wand, but it was still magic to a degree. Would the bond manage to tell the difference? He hoped so, the thought of brewing potions again made him smile before he could stop himself.

“Yes, I told Dumbledore I didn´t think this would be as much of a punishment for you as he intended it to be. Very well, here is the list of potions we need to brew, all the ingredients are labelled so you should have a hard time finding anyone them. “ Snape placed a piece of paper on the desk which had a long list of potions on them. “My books are over there if you can´t remember how to brew all of this. I know healing potions isn´t what you have made the most.”

He was exhausted when he returned to Potter´s rooms. Inside he found Potter on the couch with a book. He looked up as Riddle entered, but as the former dark lord went to kneel, Potter waved him off.

“Don´t bother. Dumbledore wanted you to come to his office as soon as you returned from Snape.”

_Great, just great,_ Riddle thought. He turned and went back out into the corridor. He had memorized the way to the Headmasters office. Standing outside he suddenly realized he didn´t know the password. It turned out that didn´t matter as the gargoyle apparently was expecting him and opened the staircase.

He knocked on the door and waited until he heard Dumbledore call “enter” before walking in and kneeling. The whole kneeling thing was actually getting easier as time went by. Perhaps that was how it had been for his followers as well. They seemed to have no problem kneeling, calling him master or “My Lord”. On the other hand it was either that or torture, in his case it was either that or the bond. _Was there really a difference?_ He suddenly thought.

Dumbledore seemed to ignore him for a while, and Riddle stayed kneeling, unsure what else to do. After a while Dumbledore looked up from his work.

“Severus was very happy with your help today,” the older wizard began. “I assume you enjoyed making potions again?”

Riddle´s head snapped up. Snape had been wrong, Dumbledore knew exactly how much tinkering with and brewing potions would make Riddle happy. It had all been a play.

“Yes, Headmaster,” he said, hoping to get away by using the mans´ title, which he did as the bond didn´t react. There wasn´t any good reason to lie after all about how much he had enjoyed the day.

Dumbledore stood, came around the desk and sat down in one of the armchairs. The magic surrounding him changing between anger and concern, Riddle noted.

For a long time he just stared into the flames of the fire before he finally looked at Riddle, still kneeling just inside the door.

“Come here, please,” the voice was quiet. His magic calm as it twisted around him.

Still unsure Riddle rose and knelt again near the chair Dumbledore was seated in.

“I want you to read through this in your room tonight. Afterwards you are free to sleep. I expect you here, in my office 30 min after you awake tomorrow. Breakfast will be provided here.”

Riddle looked down at he book that Dumbledore gave him. “The Slave law of Britain. Taken into effect in 1304, updated last in 1989.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I´m not very strong in the who/whom spelling


	12. Chapter 12

“Did you read the book?”

Riddle nodded from where he was kneeling just inside the Headmaster´s office. The book had he carefully placed in front of him.

“Good.”

Dumbledore rose and walked towards a door in his office. “Come.”

Stumbling slightly Riddle rose and followed him. They entered, what Riddle assumed to be a library by the sheer number of shelves in it, but all the books were on the floor, neatly stacked. Strange. He looked from the books to Dumbledore and then back.

“This is my library,” the Headmaster explained. “I expect you to organize it and put the books in order and make an inventory as you work.” He pointed towards a book and quill in the middle 0f the room.

Then he pointed towards a low table with a plate on it, filled with the usual food they fed him, bread, cheeses, fruits, eggs, butter, marmalade and a goblet filled with what he assumed was pumpkin juice.

“Breakfast. A tray with lunch will be brought around lunch time.”

Dumbledore disappeared, closing the door behind him.

Well, there were worse punishments, Riddle thought. He really was starting to feel like a misbehaving teenager by the menial punishments Dumbledore was handing out. It was preferable to being beaten, as had been the Ministry´s way of punishing him every time he failed to bow his head or spoke back.

It had also always been his way to punish his followers. Fear made people easier to control. If they feared you, it was more likely they would obey you. Of course Dumbledore would se himself above such things. Potter he wasn´t to sure about. There still was a darkness lurking in his magic, popping up every now and then.

_And still you are afraid of him,_ the voice whispered. Riddle scowled. Yes, in some way he did fear Dumbledore. The man held a lot of power over him, because of the damned bond. He was more afraid of the bond than the whole being degraded to a slave business. Potter had obviously never read the law on slavery if his behaviour was anything to go by. If the situation had been turned Riddle knew he would have been making sure Potter was as miserable as possible, breaking him and bringing him out as a symbol of his own power. Of the course the Golden Boy on the other hand couldn´t lower himself to that level. He could try and manipulate the boy, but he doubted it would work with Dumbledore following their every step.

Well, Dumbledore had said he was going to be treated according to his station, it would be interesting to see what that entailed. So far it had only meant his was being put to work. Speaking of work. He looked around the room. There had to be hundred of books. There was now way he would be able to finish it in one day.

It would have taken him fifteen minutes with a wand.

With a sigh he picked up the first book. Authors name started with a D, he put in to the side. The next one was E and he made another pile for that letter. The easiest would be to divide the books into piles according to the first letter of the author´s name and then do one and one pile after that. He sat down on the floor. The breakfast tray he pulled to sit next to him and he picked at his while he was going through the books. This was going to be a long day.

As promised around lunchtime another tray arrived.

As it started to darken outside the window Riddle could feel exhaustion pulling at him. He seemed to become more easily tired as of lately, which wasn´t a good quality in a slave he thought. Before all this he had hardly needed any sleep at all, now he could easily sleep twelve hours and still only manage about eight hours before he felt like he needed a nap. Perhaps he should mention it for Dumbledore or Potter? On the other hand, it would only make him look even weaker.

Dumbledore came in and let him go in the evening, telling him to come back the next day and following him to Potter´s room while explaining that he wasn´t allowed out on his own.

“If you try to leave these room alone, the bond will activate,” he said before turning to go, and then he turned back. “And you are not allowed on the furniture. A good slave knows his place.” With that he left.

Riddle would have murdered him there and then if looks could kill. As it was, looks couldn´t kill. He wasn´t even sure the damned fool could die. He got a burst of pain from the bond for his trouble.

Looking around the room he ended up walking over to the couch and sitting on the floor in front of it. Folding his arms on the seat he used it as a pillow and let the exhaustion in his body carry him of.

He woke barely when Potter entered. As he was already on the floor he hoped the bond would be silent and happy. As it turned out it was.

_A good slave always greets his master_, the, always helpful, voice whispered, referring to the section of the law, which was more of a handbook for the slave on how to behave than anything else.

_Shut up, _Riddle thought, ignoring the voice in favour of drifting off.

He felt Potter sit down on the couch, but ignored him. An interesting smell hit him and he heard Potter put something on the low table in front of him. Slightly curious he opened one eye and saw Potter open a square paper container revealing something that looked like a round piece of bread with tomato sauce, cheese and some sort of meat. He closed his eyes again.

“I know you are awake, Tom,” came the annoying voice of his _master_. Riddle sighed.

“Try this, I´m pretty sure you have not tried this before.” Something was pushed against his lips and too tired to care he opened his mouth and accepted the piece of what ever it was Potter had brought. It actually didn´t taste bad. The bread was crispy and the sauce and the cheese went well with it. There was a slight sting from the meat that he hadn´t experienced before.

Another piece was presented and Riddle took it, still too tired to care that he was being handfed.

As he was given the third piece Potter spoke.

“Good?”

Riddle nodded and the bond activated, giving him a harsh sting. Riddle gasped and curled in. Right, slaves answered direct questions.

“Yes,” he muttered. The pain hit again. _Oh, for the love of Merlin. _

“Yes, master,” he bit out, closing his eyes even harder, and getting another shot of pain for his trouble.

Potter seemed to ignore this in favour of giving him more pieces of the food.

“I thought you said you weren´t a pet?” Potter teased, his voice filled with humour. Reminding Riddle of the outburst he had made the last time Potter tried to handfed him.

“I´m considering becoming one, they don´t have to work as much as slaves,” Riddle answered sarcastically. “Master,” he remembered to add at the last second.

Potter laughed. They shared the rest of the meal in silence. Afterwards Riddle managed to drift off as Potter settle in with a book.

When he stood in the bedroom a while later he tried to figure out what to do. He wasn´t allowed on the furniture. That included the bed. So, that left the floor. He had been surprised at getting his own room in the first place. It was nice with a bed, nightstand, dresser, a desk and chair, a fireplace burning on the opposite side of the bed, being tended to by the house elf.

He removed all the blankets and pillows from the bed and dumped them on the sheep fur in front of the fireplace. Then he got a couple of extra blankets from the top of the dresser and added it to the pile. That would hopefully be enough to sleep comfortably.

***

He was almost half through the first sorting of the books he noticed when Dumbledore let him out of the library the next day.

The man sat down, motioning for Riddle to kneel in front of him. Riddle glanced at the man´s magic as he did. Slightly dark with concern, anger, irritation in between.

“You read the book I gave you, and I assume you have gotten an insight into how a slave is supposed to act?”

“Yes, Headmaster.” Riddle tried the title again, hoping for the best.

“Good. You are not allowed out of Potter´s room alone. You will be leashed at all times, while out side.”

Riddle swore on the inside.

“You will address everyone politely by their title,” Dumbledore continued. “You will serve your master´s needs, and you will answer every direct questions asked. You will kneel as you enter the room, or your master enters the one you are currently in. You will act according to your station if you want any freedom back. Have I made myself understood?”

There really was just one answer to that.

“Yes, Headmaster.”

“Good. I don´t enjoy doing this, but it´s for your own good. If you keep doing stupid things like attacking a teacher the Ministry will take you back, and they have the law to back it up.”

The door to the office suddenly opened and Potter came in, his magic twirling in angry waves around him.

“We have been summoned to the Ministry now, tonight.”

Dumbledore looked confused.

“Why?”

Potter sneered. “Apparently Malfoy has made a official complaint that my slave attacked him and was disrespectful. I have to bring Tom in for a statement.”

Riddle froze. What the hell?

“The Minister is going to love this,” Potter muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Dumbledore sighed and looked at Riddle, who suddenly felt guilty for something he hadn´t actually done.

“I swear, Tom, if Snape doesn´t back up your story about the incident with Malfoy then I´m leaving you with the Ministry,” Potter snapped.

Riddle felt himself grow cold. He hadn´t attacked Malfoy.


	13. Chapter 13

The Minister and two Aurors met them as they arrived at the Ministry. Potter dressed in the traditional Lord Potter robes, his magic once again dark and dangerous. Riddle in black robes kneeling as the arrived at the Ministry. Trying not to look at the Minister as the mans magic twirled with that strange feeling he couldn´t quite grasp. The leash was held in Potter´s hand. Riddle hadn´t even protested when the man had attached it. Potter´s magic was so dark and angry that he was unsure how it would have ended if he had said something.

“My lord,” the Minister smiled.

“We are here, Minister, let´s get this over with.”

Riddle could se the Minister´s magic turning annoyed even though the man smiled.

“Of course, my Lord. If you could hand your slave over to the Aurors here, then we can get started.”

Potter´s magic turned and twisted. Riddle couldn´t quite grasp the feeling but the man was angry.

“I´m going with him.”

The Minister smiled. “I´m sorry, but the master isn´t allowed to accompany the slave when it is being questioned. This to ensure that the slave will be free to speak the truth.”

Riddle felt himself growing cold. That was what the law said.

Potter seemed to get even angrier. “I expect him back in the same condition, Minister.”

One of the Aurors came forward, taking his leash and by pulling on it, encouraged Riddle to stand and follow.

“Of course, my Lord." He heard the Minister answer behind him as he was led away. He was led down the corridors and into and office, where there was a chair and a desk.

“Down,” the Auror commanded and Riddle sank to his knees, not seeing a reason to be difficult.

“You are at least more well behaved this time around,” he heard Auror mutter as he attached the leash to a ring in the floor with magic. Then he was left alone. The room was brown. The floor, walls and ceiling were all brown, as was the chair and the desk.

He didn´t like being back at the Ministry, and he didn´t like being separated from Dumbledore and Potter. For everything that had happened, they hadn´t actually hurt him so far.

The door opened and the Minister came in, followed by a woman Riddle didn´t recognize.

“Slave 13482/78, you hare here because you have been accused of attacking a freeman. How do you plead?”

Riddle hesitated. “Not guilty”.

“Explain to us what happened on December 5th when you met Lucius Malfoy in a corridor at Hogwarts.”

This was really strange, Riddle thought. They had never bother to let him have trial regarding all his crime as the Dark Lord, but an accusation from Lucius on the other hand.

“I was out walking when I turned a corner and almost ran into Lord Malfoy. I did not attack him, I merely called him by his name, at which point he slapped me, sent me crashing to the floor for calling him by his first name before leaving. Professor Snape at Hogwarts can attest to this.”

“You called him by his first name, slave?”

Of course the man would get stuck on that little fact.

“Yes, I was surprised to see him, and misspoke. He reacted before I could apologise for my poor behaviour and then left.” Riddle had to force the words out.

“Mhm,” the Minister said, looking down at his notes, the witch behind him taking more notes.

“You will remain at the Ministry until we can get Professor Snape her to give his statement.”

Riddle closed his eyes, great, just what he needed, a night at the Ministry.

“Miss. Lawrence, please take him to one of the cells reserved for slaves. I will inform his owner.” The Minister rose and left.

The woman untied his leash and led him through the corridors towards the familiar cells. Riddle didn´t bother to protest. He was let into a small room containing nothing but a hole in the ground acting as a toilet. The cell door closed behind him and he sank down on the floor, burying his head in his knees.

***

He woke the next morning when Potter entered the cell. Quickly he got to his knees. The magic around Potter was shimmering with barely controlled anger.

“Snape back up your story,” the other man began.

Riddle nodded, relived.

“However, Malfoy has petitioned for a public punishment for the disrespect you showed him for using his first name in public to greet him.”

_Oh, fuck. _Riddle remembered that part from the law. An offended party could fill a complaint with the Ministry to punish a slave for disobedience unless his owner could prove that the slave in question had been punished in accordance with the law. Which neither Potter nor Dumbledore could, as the punishment was a whipping.

“I don´t think you understand how precarious your position actually is. We had to fight to get to keep you at Hogwarts. Even with the change in status and the bonding ritual, we barely managed to get the court and the Ministry to agree. I´m not keeping you as a slave to satisfy my own needs if you are wondering. I´m doing this to make sure you have something resembling a real life. If you want to stay in a cell for the rest of my life, be my guest. This can´t continue, Tom. After we get through this, I´m actually going to agree with Dumbledore that you have to be treated as your station entitles to protect you from yourself.”

Riddle swallowed.

“The Ministry has decided that 10 lashes is enough to satisfy the offended party. The punishment will be carried out now, after that we will return home. In accordance with the law, I´m not allowed to use magic to heal you afterwards.”

Potter lifted his hand and knocked on the door.


	14. Chapter 14

Then lashes turned out to be far worse than it sounded, as the person handing out the lashes was quite skilled with the whip. By the tenth lash, Riddle was barely conscious.

When he finally woke he found himself lying on his stomach in a hospital bed.

“Don´t move, dear,” came a female voice behind him. “You will only rip open the wounds again.” Riddle nodded and let himself drift of again.

The next time he woke he could se Potter sitting in a chair beside him, reading. He looked up as he saw Riddle move. His magic a combination of anger, concern, relief and something else Riddle didn´t manage to quite grasp.

Potter rose and placed a hand on his neck. “Easy. Don´t rip up the wounds again.”

Riddle relaxed and drifted of again.

***

Dumbledore looked over the top of the book he was reading towards the sleeping figure on the couch.

Tom was curled up in a ball, still sleeping peacefully. He looked innocent as he slept.

Harry had left last night to spend the weekend with his friends. He hadn´t wanted to take Tom with him as he didn´t think it would do any good for the older boy. Therefore he had been left in Dumbledore´s charge.

After the last incident at the Ministry Tom had started to have nightmares. He didn´t remember them when he woke, but they did keep Harry up as he was woken, and the only way to get the former dark lord back to sleep was if he stayed in the room.

Tom had spent the night between Friday and Saturday alone in the rooms and had apparently slept badly because when he arrived at the Headmaster´s office he had looked more dead than alive. Dumbledore had watched as he ate breakfast, then giving him a sleeping potion and telling him to lie down on the couch.

Dumbledore kept studying the former dark lord. Tom had changed after the last incident at the Ministry. He had become quiet, withdrawn and obedient. Three things one wouldn´t normally expect from him. It was as if the last incident with the complaint from Lucius has finally made Tom aware of exactly how powerless he was. Dumbledore didn´t like what he had done to his former student, but he wanted to try and save the brilliant boy he remembered, not destroy him. Yes, he had punished him and been angry when he had stupid things to hurt himself, but he would never have laid a hand on the younger man himself.

The figure on the couch turned and twisted before opening his eyes. He blinked; confused before landing on Dumbledore, then he quickly looked away.

“Sleep well?” Dumbledore inquired.

“Yes, Headmaster,” came the whispering response. “Thank you.”

Dumbledore could see Tom studying his magic to determine Dumbledore´s mood. He had gotten used to Tom´s strange talent to see ones magic. It was strange, but he assumed the bond had meant for it to be useful.

“Are you hungry, you slept through lunch?”

Tom shook his head, and Dumbledore thought to challenge him, he had to be hungry.

Dumbledore put down his book. He rose from his seat.

“Up,” he ordered and watched as Tom stood. Then he lead him from his office and to the rooms Harry occupied. Inside he turned towards Tom who was already kneeling.

“Get your cloak, gloves and scarf, we are going out.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought it was time Tom caught a break :)

A few day´s later at breakfast Potter too asked him to get dressed to go out. They walked until they arrived outside the school grounds. When Riddle asked where they were going Potter merely smiled and said it was a surprise. Riddle really didn´t like surprises. Potter explained that he had put a proximity spell on Riddle, making it impossible for him to wander more than 3o feet away from Potter. Apparently that satisfied the law. Riddle was just glad he didn´t have to wear the damned leash.

They arrived at Diagon Alley by apparating. Riddle landing slightly unsteady as they arrived, but he managed to find his balance quickly. He looked up and paled when he saw where they were. _You have to be joking_, he thought. Why in seven hells was the Potter bringing him here? The last thing he wanted was to be humiliated in public. Or perhaps this was another lesson regarding his position as if the last couple of weeks hadn´t made it quite clear where he stood.

“Why,” he started to ask as they stood in the shopping district, but was cut of by Potter.

“Oh, don´t worry, Tom. I have put a notice-me-not charm on you. No one will recognize you. I would however try to avoid kneeling and calling me master,” Potter smiled and started walking through the crowd. There weren´t many people out at the time, Riddle noticed and was somewhat relived. The stores were all filled with Christmas decoration, every one of them trying to lure people into the store to use their money.

He had to jog to catch up with Potter.

Riddle was happy to notice that, even though people nodded in greeting to Potter, they ignored him.

“Where are we going?” he inquired after they had walked for a while, only stopping every now and then when Potter saw something interesting in a window.

Riddle was more interested in watching the wizards and witches wandering back and fort. Mostly likely buying Christmas presents and supplies for the holiday, which was coming up fast. It was strange walking in Diagon Alley again. He had been there, or more correct Knockout Alley, a couple of times over the last decade. Always using glamours. He couldn’t remember the last time he had walked in the shopping area looking like himself.

He hadn´t notice Potter talking to one of the street vendors until a cup was pushed into his hands.

“What,” he began looking down at the cup in his hand, a strange, but familiar smell drifting up from it.

“Hot chocolate,” Potter explained before starting to walk again.

“Coming?” he called over his shoulder.

Riddle looked up, and went to follow Potter.

“Has it been a long time since you last were here?”

“Public panic can be entertaining when planed, but as a rule a Dark Lord doesn´t go shopping.”

Potter laughed.

“Very well, where would you like to go?”

“I assumed you had errands here?” Why else were they here?

Potter shook his head, “No, I just thought you would like some fresh air and though a little normality could be good.” He took a sip from his cup, smiling as the taste of chocolate hit him.

Riddle mirrored him, trying to remember the last time he tasted chocolate. The sweet flavour hit his taste buds and the warm liquid felt well against the cold. Where would he like to go? He didn´t even know which stores that were still in business. He had to admit it was a nice gesture from Potters side to let him out from the castle for a little while. Dumbledore had taking him walking around the school grounds when Potter had been away with his friends.

He still wasn´t allowed wander around alone in castle. Apparently both Potter and Dumbledore was afraid he would loose his temper again and do something stupid, or run into someone and do something stupid, as he had with Malfoy. The problem was that both Dumbledore and Potter had jobs to look after and Riddle was spending a lot of time on his own. Dumbledore kept assigning him tasks to do and lending him out to the teachers to help them out with what ever they needed helping with, which helped making time go by.

Normally one of them would take a walk with him in the evening.

Riddle had to admit it was better than being stuck in the rooms all day. It worked mostly well, maybe except with the charms professor, who´s name Riddle never seemed to remember. The man was terrified of him, and Riddle normally ended up reading textbooks and waiting for the hours to pass until he was returned to his rooms, or for the man to have a heart attack from fear and die. Which ever came first.

Potters voice drew him from his thoughts.

“What about the bookstore?”

“You hate reading,” Riddle answered without thinking. The bond blessedly stayed silent.

Potter snorted. “Yes, but as I recall you like reading. Come on. And don´t tell Hermione about this, she´ll think there is hope for me yet if she figures out I´ve gone to the bookstore out of my own free will.” He started to lead the way with Riddle trailing behind, sipping the cup. They would not be permitted to bring the cups into the shop. As he drained the cup it disappeared, being transported back to the vendor.

The bookstore was huge. Riddle looked around, feeling a forgotten feeling of excitement of being around the books.

As they entered, the owner of the store came over, expressing his happiness for having the Boy-Who-Lived in his store again. If there was anything he needed, anything at all.

Riddle rolled his eyes, childish he knew, but he couldn´t help it. The bond immediately flared and gave him a punishing burst of pain.

Potter wandered around with him as he perused the shelves. Every now and then a book caught his interest and he pulled it out to look at it before replacing it. At one point Potter found a chair that he sank into, waving at Riddle to keep wandering. The proximity spell would give him a hint when he was reaching his limit, and once he reached it, he simply would not be able to move any further.

He went up to the second floor. Walking slowly down along the shelves he dragged a finger along the back of the books. He briefly whished he actually had money to buy some of them. He came to notebooks and diaries and his hand hovered over a black diary resembling his old one. The one Malfoy had been foolish enough to give to the Weasly girl, which had cost him one of his horcruxes. He really hadn´t punished Malfoy enough for that mistake.

As if thinking of the man somehow could summon him, he suddenly heard the hated voice down stairs. The sound of the voice made him feel as if he had been hit with bucket of cold water, the memories of the last trip to the Ministry resurfacing. 

“Mr. Potter, how surprising to see you in a bookstore.” The voice was patronizing and cold.

Riddle wandered over to the banister and looked over it. Malfoy was with his wife. Probably buying Christmas presents.

Potter had risen from his chair, his magic dark with anger.

Malfoy´s magic twirled with something looking like amusement, superiority, but also there were strands of hate and anger.

“Lord Malfoy. Lady Malfoy, out Christmas shopping?”

Riddle smiled, he was always polite.

“And pray tell, is your little pet with you?” Malfoy looked around.

Potter smiled, the smile being ice cold and down right scary. “That is none of your concern, my Lord. You are not to go near him ever again. If you do I swear I will destroy you once and for all.“

With that Potter walked around them and headed upstairs. He saw Riddle looking down at him he smiled.

“Every time I´m in this damned bookstore I run into that man,” Potter muttered, running a hand through his hair. He looked down at Riddle´s hands and frowned.

“Still haven´t found anything you want? You have to have looked over the store twice now. Feel like we have been here forever.”

The bond flashed, urging Riddle to apologise for wasting his master’s time. Riddle ignored it as he usually did when it was possible.

Riddle was pretty sure he looked like a question mark.

“I assumed you would find something here. I know it´s not the dark books you probably had your own library filled with, but there have to be something here worth reading?” Potter looked around while waving his hand as he did.

“I, what?” Riddle asked stupidly. He didn´t have any money, nor was he legally allowed to buy anything.

It suddenly seemed to dawn on Potter that Riddle didn´t follow him. Riddle saw understanding suddenly bleed into his magic.

“Tom, are there any books here, you would like to take home?”

Riddle hesitated. Was that trick question, another lesson? Asking him what he wanted, and then telling him that he couldn´t have it thus reminding Riddle that he wasn´t in a position to assume or want anything. Then again, what was one more humiliation?

He bit his lower lip. “There is a potion book,” he began.

“Good,” Potter said. “What is it called?”

Riddle mentioned the title and Potter quickly summoned the book with the Accio spell. The book came around the corner so fast it didn´t manage to slow down and hit Potter square in the back of his head.

“ouch,” the dark haired boy muttered, rubbing his head. He bent down to pick up the book and handed it to Riddle. “Any others?”

Riddle mentioned a history book and a book on wandless spells. Potter looked like he wanted to protest at the book about wandless spells, but seemed to think better of it.

“Alright,” Potter took the books from Riddle as they descended the stairs. Riddle couldn´t help himself and looked around to see if Lucius was anywhere close, but couldn´t see him.

“Wait here while I pay for these.”


	16. Chapter 16

He stood just inside the room and stared at the bed.

The books Potter had purchased were on the nightstand. He had already read through one of them, and was half through the one on wandless magic. He turned his eyes from the books to the bed. He really wanted to sleep. Badly. He couldn´t remember the last time he actually got a full nights sleep. Not that he could remember the nightmares either, they kept disappearing the moment he woke up, but apparently they woke Potter up because it had become quite common for Riddle to wake and finding Potter sleeping in a chair next to the bed.

He had no idea why the boy just didn´t put a muffle charm on the bedroom to make sure he got to sleep through the night, and not being woken by Riddle. Riddle would have. Or to be fair, he would have put the boy in a cell and left him to rot. Lucky for him Potter was a more honourable person, Dumbledore on the other hand. If one didn´t count the darkness that apparently lived in the younger boy. It was interesting to see the darkness that sometimes bled into the dark haired boy. He wondered if it was possible to encourage the boy to continue down that path. Then again, that would most likely result in Dumbledore actually hunting down his horcruxes and killing him. Perhaps if he was subtle? He put the thought away to ponder on it later.

Annoyed he turned on his heels and wandered back into the living room. He was tired. Having barely slept the last wee,. he was beyond tired really. The damned nightmares kept waking him up, and Potter refused to let him have the dreamless potion in fear of addiction. Riddle really wanted to strangle him, unfortunately that wasn´t an option. It didn´t help that Snape had refused to give it to him too. Riddle winced remembering his last, not so very good idea. He seemed to be having quite a lot of those lately.

_“Damn, I have to run,” Potter looked at his watch as the neared the chambers they were sharing. Riddle looked at him curiously. They had been out walking in the afternoon, strolling around the grounds while Riddle tried to drone out Potters speech about the fourth year Slytherin students, which apparently were not his favourites. As they approached the door to the rooms Potter had suddenly looked at the watch on his wrists (muggle watch he refused to get rid of as it was convenient to be able to tell time with out having to cast a spell). _

_“Parent-teacher conference,” Potter explained as he saw Riddle looking at him. They had stopped just out side the door. “I guess you know how to open a door and can get inside by yourself?” he smirked before turning and hurrying around the corner and down the stairs. _

_Riddle sighed, spoke the password and reached for the handle on the door. He really wanted to sleep. Then he hesitated. He remembered the wording of the command Dumbledore had used. He could not “leave” the chambers alone, but once escorted outside the bond would not activate if he was left alone, and Potter had chosen to leave him outside. It could of course be that the bond reacted to intent, but he didn´t think so. Which meant he could wander around the castle if he wanted, but not out of the school area or to the Chamber. Debating for a moment he figured it was worth the risk. He really needed a good nights sleep. _

_He turned and took of down the corridor. Taking the stairs down to the ground floor before heading for the dungeon. If he was lucky he wouldn´t run into any of the slytherin students. He was the heir of Slytherin, or he had been the heir of Slytherin? Either way the students didn´t exactly seem to like him. He had passed a couple of students from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw on his way down; they all went out of their way to avoid him. Luckily he hadn´t run into any of the teachers, or God forbid Dumbledore. _

_The knock on the door sounded impossibly loud in the empty corridor and he winced at the sound, half expecting a teacher to come running to look what the noise was. He wasn´t sure the man actually was in his office, but it was a good enough guess as any. _

_Apparently his luck held up. _

_“Come in.” _

_He pressed down the handle and carefully pushed the door inwards, stepping into the slightly dark office. _

_Snape looked up from the scroll he was writing on and a fleeting look of surprise passed over his face, and bled into his magic. The man quickly schooled his features and put the quill down. Unfortunately for him the emotions shown in his magic stayed put. Riddle stopped just inside the door and closed it behind him. He wasn´t quite sure how to go about this, but in his youth he had been quite good at manipulating people with his charms and looks. It had made him quite the successful salesman at Borgin and Burke´s. _

_“Mr. Riddle,” Snape said. Riddle again wondered if the man failed to be aware that slaves didn´t have last names, but had started to believe that Snape was trying to be kind. Not that one normally would use Snape and kind in the same sentence. Unlike Lucius however, Snape didn´t seem to harbour any ill feelings towards him. _

_“Professor.” Polite was usually a good place to start. _

_“Where is your escort?” _

_Damn, Riddle thought. He had forgotten that the teachers knew he wasn´t allowed to roam the castle on his own. Hopefully that wouldn´t be a problem. _

_“Potter let me outside alone.” That wasn´t completely untrue, he thought. Potter had let him outside; the alone part was perhaps a bit more in the grey area. Unfortunately he could see from the disbelief that swirled in Snape´s magic that he didn´t believe a word he had just told him. Great. _

_“I need a favour,” he began, trying to get Snape of the tropic and perhaps he would forget about the whole missing escort. _

_This time the surprise was even stronger as he crossed the potion masters face. Riddle sighed. Yes, it was humiliating asking for favours, but if he looked back at the last four and a half months of his life, asking a favour from Snape wasn´t really high on the list of embarrassments. _

_“I´m listening.” _

_Well, here goes nothing, Riddle thought. “Any chance you have dreamless potion laying around somewhere? Or a sleeping draught?” _

_He could see Snape taking in the question. It was impossible to read the man and his magic gave nothing away, and with out his magic he couldn´t read his mind either. He really missed that ability come to think of it. Although it wouldn´t work very well on Snape, he conceded. The man had strong occlumensy shields. _

_“Yes, but I´ve sent almost everything to the Medical Wing. May I inquire as to why you are asking?” _

_Yes, Riddle thought; God forbid it would be as easy as just asking. He considered lying and telling Snape it was for Potter. Problem was that it was a lie that could easily be discovered. And he had already asked Snape for a favour, indicating it was for him self. Well, that left him with the truth. _

_“I seem to be unable to sleep through the night.” _

_He could see Snape nod, it wasn´t news to the potion master as Riddle had summoned him the middle of the night before when he had been unable to sleep. _

_“I see,” the professor said, looking thoughtful. “Unfortunately I´m not allowed to give you any potions.” _

_Riddle sighed and dropped his head. Of course he wasn´t. The old fool would have made sure of that. The sting from the bond wasn´t too bad this time. _

_“Potter is concerned about addiction as you have history for using them frequently.” _

_Yes, of course the blasted boy would be concerned with his health. The sting was worse this time. The irony was almost too much to bear. _

_“Of course he is,” he muttered. “And how exactly does he know that I´ve used the potions in the past?” Trick question really as Riddle had overheard the conversation between Snape and Potter. _

_“It showed up on the diagnostic spell we cast on you when you arrived from the Ministry. It showed all present and previous injuries and illnesses, as well as all medical potions ingested. That, and I told Potter about it.” _

_“Concerned for my health, Severus?” he sneered, regretting it immediately as the bond flashed, making him put an arm around his waist. Yes, be polite. One of the rules Potter had set in place. Why couldn´t he strangle the boy again? Perhaps find a muggle to shoot him, which would be ironic. _

_Snape merely smiled. “No, but I assumed I would be blamed if you got addicted to the potion.” _

_“Potter would probably,” Riddle conceded. With another sigh he headed for the door. It would probably be wise to get back to his room before Potter finished the conference or Dumbledore decided to drop by. As he touched the handle he withdrew his hand as he heard Snape utter a spell behind his back. _

_“Colloportus.” The lock clicked shut. _

_Okay, Riddle thought. Not expecting to be locked in the office with Snape. He turned, looking at the professor questionably. _

_“Any particular reason you are locking me in here?” He inquired. _

_Snape put away his wand, rose and moved over to the fireplace and Riddle watched as a piece of paper was thrown into the fire along with floo powder. After watching the paper disappear, Snape rose and straightened before turning around. His magic was calm and collected, giving Riddle no indication as to why he wasn´t allowed to leave the office. _

_“As mentioned are you not allowed outside your rooms without an escort, which means I can´t let you leave here alone.” _

_Oh, please tell me you didn´t, Riddle thought. Surprised at feeling something akin to worry rise in him. “Can´t you just follow be back then?” That would be the preferred solution, but he knew it wouldn´t bee that easy. _

_Snape shook his head. “You knowingly disobeyed the rules by coming here alone. I have summoned one of the to come and fetch you.” _

_Riddle swore soundless in every language he knew. “Please tell me you summoned Potter.” _

_“Potter is busy with parent-teacher conferences.” _

_Oh, this was really not his best idea. _

_“I´m not a child,” he hissed, anger taking over. He had always been easy to anger, one of his vices. “I´m perfectly able to walk around on my own.” The bond was not happy with that comment. _

_Snape smirked. “Yes, we all noticed how well it turned out when you ran into Lucius and then tried to kill me by throwing a crystal ball at me.” _

_Riddle glared, getting another sting for his trouble. He decided to let the tropic lay to prevent him self for doing something stupid. Well, there wasn´t much to do other than wait for the blasted Headmaster to come and fetch him. Snape went around his desk and sat down to work on whatever he was working on. _

_“Take a seat if you want.” _

_Yes, Riddle did want that, but alas since Dumbledore was stilling punishing him for the whole getting into trouble with Malfoy and trying to kill Snape, he couldn´t. There was however no chance in hell he was telling Snape that. He pulled a hand through his hair and leaned against the wall. _

_It didn´t take long before there was a knock on the door. Snape unlocked it with a quiet “Alohomora”. _

_Dumbledore pushed open the door and entered. He ignored Riddle and addressed the potion master. _

_“Good evening, Severus.” _

_“Headmaster.” _

_“Thank you for calling me.” _

_“Of course.” _

_Riddle watched as the magic around the headmaster twirled and twisted in a rapid tempo. Yes, the man was angry. Not furious but angry none the less. This was going to be fun. He leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes for a few second before opening them. When he did he meet Dumbledore´s blue eyes for a second, before lowering his eyes to the floor. He hated himself for the submissive gesture, but couldn´t stop it. He really did keep screwing things up. _

_“Come, Tom.” Dumbledore swept out the door. Using his foot Riddle pushed himself of the wall and went to follow. This was going to be fun. He wondered what punishment the man in front of him would conjure up this time. Cleaning the kitchen? Writing lines? He was pretty sure the man wouldn´t physical harm him in any way. Relatively sure at least. 50/50 chance perhaps. _

_Not a word was uttered as the returned to Riddle´s rooms, which Riddle found oddly surprising. He had been expected to be taken to the Headmaster´s office not his rooms. _

_Inside Riddle removed his heavy winter cloak, hanging it just inside the door. Unsure he stayed just inside the door watching as Dumbledore wandered around, clearly trying to decide on something, his magic dark with anger and twisting and turning. _

_The bond pushed at him to kneel and he figured it was better to avoid more pain than necessary and knelt. _

_Dumbledore came to a stop in front of him. Riddle kept his eyes on the ground, not out of the need to appear submissive, more to avoid looking at the Headmaster´s magic and anger. _

_He saw the hand that was being extended towards his face hand had to force himself not to flinch away. The hand cupped his cheek and lifted his head. He briefly looked up and met Dumbledore´s blue eyes before looking down. _

_When the Headmaster spoke his voice was soft. “I´m not quite sure what to do with you this time. You are behaving like a child, Tom, rebelling against the few simple rules you have. If you want the Ministry to take you away again this badly, just tell us. It is tempting to just punish you the way a child would be. This performance is not what I would expect from the Heir of Slytherin. I have to leave due to a meeting, but we will talk about this later.” Dumbledore let go of him and disappeared out the door, leaving Riddle alone. _


	17. Chapter 17

The flashback left him and he was standing the living room. Dumbledore had left some time ago and hopefully the whole talk would wait until morning. His eyes fell on the bottle of Fire Whiskey that was standing on the tray along with glasses and ice. He wasn´t much of a drinker, but he knew alcohol would help him falling asleep, even though it would not help with the quality of the sleep.

He grabbed the bottle and a glass and sank down on the floor in front of the couch, his usual place. The bottle and glass was placed on the table and he poured himself a good amount. After knocking it back he poured a second and a third drink. The liquid burned in his stomach, he should have eaten something, but he was unable to call the house elf and Dumbledore had left in anger, so food wasn´t exactly obtainable. The fourth drink went down a little slower. He could feel his head starting to swim. When was the last time he had been drinking anything stronger than a glass of wine?

On the positive side he could feel that he was starting to get tired. He considered actually going into the bedroom, but decided he was too tired to move. He closed his eyes and leaned against the couch and allowed himself to drift of.

He woke when the door slammed shut. Confused he rubbed his eyes and looked up. His vision swam for a moment, telling him that he hadn´t been out that long as the alcohol apparently was still working. Dumbledore was standing just inside the door.

“Headmaster,” he muttered letting his head back down on the couch.

“What are you doing, Tom?” The voice could probably freeze an ocean.

Riddle smiled softly. “Trying to get some sleep,” he answered honestly.

Dumbledore sighed, some of the anger seemed to leave him and he sat down on the couch. “You aren´t allowed alcohol.”

“Not one of the rules,” Riddle muttered closing his eyes.

“It´s the law.”

Oh. Well, come to think about it, there might have been something about that in the book he read.

“Well, if you could let me have the sleeping potion this whole thing wouldn´t have happened.”

Dumbledore sighed. If he got a galleon every time he sighed he would soon be quite rich, he thought to himself. Tom had been behaving since he came back from the Ministry, but the last couple of days it seemed he was returning to his normal, slightly annoying, self. He had actually no idea what to do with the boy this time. The only punishment that seemed to have any effect so far had been the one the Ministry had administered.

“Why didn´t you just hunt down the horcruxes I made and destroyed them, and then kill me?” The question had been bothering Riddle for some time now. It didn´t make sense. Why go through all this trouble of keeping him alive and at Hogwarts. Dumbledore had put the whole school in danger not to say he also risked parents pulling the children out of the school.

“It´s not that simple, Tom.”

“Actually it is. If you ask me I would have to not only tell you what objects I made into horcruxes, but also where I hid them. There is no good reason for you not to do this. None of the objects I used holds any sentimental value to you, and you would find the means to destroy them.”

Riddle wasn´t sure why he was giving the man ideas, he blamed it on the alcohol and curiosity. Opening his eyes he caught sight of something in Dumbledor´s magic. Frowning he studied the light brown colour whispering around. What the hell?

Why would Dumbledore be afraid? He looked up, but the man´s face was blank. He couldn´t possibly be scared of the horcruxes as Riddle knew he had set it up so that Harry could destroy the diary.

“There are after all only five of them left.” He waited, watching the magic. There it was, concern and worry. Worried about what? Worried that there was five left? Or something else?

_What are you hiding? _Riddle thought. The magic flickered. Concern, worry, anger, something that looked like protectiveness glimmering in silver. He frowned.

The only reason not to hunt down the horcruxes would be because Dumbledore was protecting something or someone, and Riddle was pretty sure it wasn´t him Dumbledore was protecting.

The magic flashed with speaks of green, regret. It reminded him of the colour of Potters eyes, and that of the boy´s mother. Potter. Riddle looked up, meeting Dumbledore´s eyes as everything suddenly dawned on him.

“You can´t destroy them all,” he whispered, sitting up. “Or, you can but you won´t. The boy. That night I tried to kill him. That is why he can speak with snakes. That is why the he so powerful. Why I can´t seem to be able to kill him. ”

Dumbledore didn´t actually have to confirm the answer for him, his magic did it for him.

“Quite annoying that little gift of yours.”

“Does he know?”

Dumbledore shook his head. “No, and it will stay that way. You are not to tell him under any circumstances and that´s an order.” The voice was cold, reminding Riddle of the time they duelled in the Ministry.

The Ministry… Riddle felt himself grow cold. He remembered that duel, or more precisely he remembered the words spoken during the duel.

_“`You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore?' called Voldemort, his scarlet eyes narrowed over the top of the shield. `Above such brutality, are you?'_

_'We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom,' Dumbledore said calmly, continuing to walk towards Voldemort as though he had not a fear in the world, as though nothing had happened to interrupt his stroll up the hall. `Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit´_

_`There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!' snarled Voldemort._

_`You are quite wrong,' said Dumbledore, still closing in upon Voldemort and speaking as_

_lightly as though they were discussing the matter over drinks”*_

Another piece of the puzzle clicked into place.

“It wasn´t an accident”, Riddle said, standing, his voice soft. “You planned it. You knew where we were apparating to because Snape has been working for you the whole time, and you made sure to have a muggle present with a sniper riffle. You had the Ministry´s blessing and the ritual ready long before I got shot. The Minister actually told be, I just didn´t understand the words at the time. How long have you been waiting for that opportunity?”

“Tom,” Dumbledore began softly.

“You knew Potter was one of my horcruxes and therefor you couldn´t kill me as you weren´t willing to sacrifice the boy, so you managed to come up with something worse? Are you happy that you finally have me under your complete control then?” he asked, nearly managing to keep the sneer out of his voice.

Dumbledore didn´t really have to answer, his magic did it for him.

Riddle rubbed his eyes and reached for the glass of fire whiskey.

“Don´t,” he warned as he saw Dumbledore open his mouth. “I need a drink after this.”

Dumbledore sighed and stood, his magic twirling between irritation, anger and resignation.

“Please leave,” Riddle said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I understand this was a lot for you to take in. I hope you will understand that I did what I did for your own good.”

Riddle poured another drink. He mind was reeling. The alcohol was slowing his thought process down somewhat, but it also helped him to not care about what Dumbledore had just told him, unwillingly, but still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I´m ignorering book six and seventh and going on as if book five happened.


	18. Chapter 18

He had figured out that the bond didn´t think of the window seat as furniture, which at least gave him one place in the room he could sit down, except for his bed. A blanket and a couple of pillows and the window had actually become one of his favourite places. He could see the courtyard below and the forbidden forest that rose in the background. Potter´s rooms was located somewhere in the western part of the castle if he remembered correctly which way was north and south. Close to the DADA classroom.

At the moment he was staring out at the full moon that loomed outside and the stars that shone brightly. It was a perfect winter night. It had been snowing most of the day and the snow covered everything, turning the world white and clean. Christmas was nearing as well. Riddle didn´t look forward to Christmas. He didn´t know what Potter had planed for the holiday, but he was pretty sure he wouldn´t enjoy it.

The whiskey had lulled his senses enough to dull his feelings into nothing. He wasn´t drunk, just pleasantly… something. He took another sip from the glass and leaned his forehead against the cool glass.

He had six horcruxes left then. A small laugh escaped him. Potter, who would have thought the boy was one of his horcruxes? It did make sense in a twisted way, he guessed. It explained why he had always been drawn to the boy, why he had so much difficulty killing him, why they were so much alike, and the power the boy wielded. If only he had known before. The trouble it would have saved him. He could simply have grabbed the boy in the Ministry instead of spending time trying to kill him.

Well, the boy needed to be protected he guessed. Not that he was in much of a position to do so, but at least Potter was without a dark lord in his life, trying to kill him, at the moment. He did have a dark lord in his life though, just not one that could kill him. Not that he wanted to anymore. Why kill a piece of his soul when he had spent so much time creating the horcruxes to begin with?

He took another sip from the glass, feeling as the liquid burned down his throat. He really didn´t like whiskey come to think of it, too bitter in taste.

And speaking of bitter feelings, then there was Dumbledore´s latest scheme. Of course the shooting wasn´t an accident, he thought. He should have figured that one out a long time ago. The old fool actually managed to trap him in the end by something so simple it didn´t seem possible. He wondered how long time Dumbledore had needed to find the ritual he had used. It was brilliant really; he had to give the man that, a completely irreversible ritual that bound him to his two greatest enemies. Fate couldn´t have come up with a better plan even if it tried.

The last of the liquid in the glass disappeared and he turned the glass around in his hands, letting his thoughts wander. It was nearly five months now since he woke up at Hogwarts the first time. He wondered about his Death Eaters. One part of him felt betrayed they hadn´t tried to get him back, bond or no bond, but a part of him also understood why. Self-preservation was strong among them. They would not risk exposing themselves. He had no doubt that the collar he wore had a tracking spell imbedded into it, and the collar itself was old and he could feel the magic it emitted. It would not come of easy.

Would someone rise and try to take his place among them? Or would they simply disperse and go back to their ordinary lives?

The thoughts turned to Nagini, his familiar and horcrux. He wondered what had become of her when he hadn´t returned that night. His thoughts were interrupted as the door opened and a tired looking Potter came in.

_Kneel_. The bond pushed at him instantly, but before he could move Potter looked over at him and waved his hand. “Stay seated.”

Riddle watched as Potter got rid of his cloak and then grabbed a glass and poured himself a generous amount of whiskey before flopping down on the couch. The whiskey disappeared in two big swallows before Potter poured himself another drink. Looking up he brought the bottle over to the window and poured a good amount into Riddle´s glass as well. Then he returned to the couch and sat down. He let his head lean back against the back of the couch and took another swing of the glass.

“I take it I can´t expect you to follow even the smallest of instructions.”

Riddle gritted his teeth. Potter managed to make him sound like a disobedient pet that wouldn´t sit and stay at command. He looked out the window and refused to answer.

“Albus is furious. I don´t think I´ve ever met anyone who can manage to rile that man up the way you somehow seems to do. Was it like this when you were a student as well?”

Riddle continued to look out the window, but answered before he could stop himself. “Dumbledore never liked me when I attended Hogwarts. The only one of the teachers who didn´t if I remember correctly. I don´t think he has grown more fond of me as time has passed.” He blamed the alcohol on the fact that he answered.

Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Potter turned on the couch so that he could look at Riddle. “He did spare your life and you are here instead of in Azkaban or worse.”

Riddle smiled without humour. ‘Or worse’, he thought thinking of the Minister. He did have to admit thing could be worse though. He had his own room, cloths, three meals a day and several other privileges. If the roles had been reversed Potter would have found himself in a cell being tortured and starved. So fare the punishments Dumbledore had managed to come up with had been nothing more than menial tasks. He did have a small inkling that perhaps he had stretched thing a bit this time if Dumbledore´s anger was anything to go by. He had no doubt the man was capable of physically hurting him if pushed too far.

“The only reason I´m in this predicament if because Dumbledore planned this. He never wanted me dead, he told me that himself that night in the Ministry. Simply killing me would not satisfy him. I guess this somehow does.” He took a deep swallow from the glass, wincing slightly as it burned down his throat. A thought suddenly hit him and he turned his head to look at his horcrux.

“The sniper… Dumbledore hardly even knows what a gun is, I can´t imagine he managed to come up with the idea of a sniper,” he said slowly, watching as the magic around Potter shifted, something looking like embarrassment and pride battling for dominance. Ah, so his little horcrux did have a cunning mind after all. He met Potter´s green eyes and held his gaze. It was strange, looking at the boy who unknowingly had a piece of his soul inside of him.

“Perhaps you would have done well in Slytherin after all, Mr. Potter,” he smirked. He finished the glass, for a second trying to remember how many he had gone through, but gave up. He didn´t feel like standing, and was saved the trouble when Potter came over and filled his glass again. He returned the bottle to the table and picked up his own glass, which he brought over to the window seat and sat down on the opposite side. Riddle had to pull his legs slightly up to his chest to give the dark haired boy some room, but didn´t mind. He let the alcohol wash over him, numbing everything. He rested his head against the glass once more.

Potter took small sips from his own glass, staring out the window. He seemed to be battling with something as his magic was moving rapidly.

“The hat wanted to put me in Slytherin.”

Riddle straightened. “Really?” That was unexpected. “Why didn´t it?”

Potter smiled and took another swing from his glass, apparently a little to big a swing because he started coughing. Once the coughing subsided he answered. “I asked it not to. I had met Malfoy in Diagon Alley and he managed to make me loose all interest in Slytherin.”

“I really didn´t punish that family enough,” Riddle muttered under his breath. He wondered if things would have been different if Potter had been in Slytherin instead of Gryffindor.

“What?” Potter asked.

Riddle shook his head. “Nothing.”

Potter didn´t look convinced. “Speaking of Malfoys. What´s the case between you and Lucius?”

He really needed to get drunk if he was going to have this conversation with Potter, Riddle thought. He could feel the alcohol clouding his mind and loosing his tongue.

“I thought he was your second in command, or something. One of you closest followers,” Potter continued.

Riddle laughed softly. Potter looked completely surprised at the sound, staring at him.

“What?” Riddle asked.

Potter shook his head. “Nothing. I just think that´s the first time I´ve ever heard you laugh.”

“There hasn´t been that much to laugh about in my life the last five months, Mr. Potter,” Riddle replied.

“True.”

Riddle considered what to tell him, and decided the truth would probably do.

“The two followers that have been closest to me are Bellatrix and Severus. I have trained both of them personally in several aspects of dark magic. I´ve actually taught Severus how to fly the way I can, although I´m not sure he uses that talent too often. I went to school with Lucius´ father and he was one of my first followers, and that is how Lucius was introduced into the Death Eaters. I´m not all that sure he really wanted to join, but he did as his father demanded, as it was that or not getting the inheritance. Lucius has always looked after himself and his family first. After I failed to kill you he was one of the first to plead that he had been under the imperius curse the whole time. He managed to pull it of and gained a good position in the Ministry during the 13 years I was missing. He did return once I got my body back, as you remember, pleading his case.”

“Did you forgive him?”

Did he? Riddle thought for a moment. He suspected he never did forgive the blond. Another sip from the glass helped the story to continue.

“No, I guess I didn´t. Either way, I tasked him with getting the prophecy from the Department of Mystery, which he failed at. I left him to rot in Azkaban for a while as punishment along with the rest of those who failed me that night. In the end I broke him and the others out, as I needed them. I also needed a place to stay, and ended up using the Malfoy Manor as a headquarter and meeting place. Narcissa wasn´t too happy about that, but she knew better than to complain.

I punished those who failed me severely, and Lucius bore the brunt of the punishment. To further punish him I tasked his son with the impossible task to kill Dumbledore a couple of years ago. As you well know, he failed, giving me reason to punish both him and his father. His mother tried to intervene on her son´s behalf and I let my anger out on her as well. I did however not know that she was pregnant at the time, and that the punishment made her miscarriage. She has not been able to conceive again after that as far as I know.” Riddle let his voice die out, looking out the window.

“That does explain why Lucius hates you.”

Yes, Riddle thought, I guess it does. He could still remember the hatred in the blond´s eyes as it became clear that Narcissa had lost her child. She had been five months pregnant at the time. Not only had Riddle tried to make his only son a murder, but he had also caused his wife to abort the child she was carrying. He finished the rest of his glass, putting it down on the window seat beside him.

His vision swam slightly and he realised he was well on his way to getting drunk.

“Tell me about the diary,” he said wanting to change the subject.

“Your charming younger self tried to have the basilisk kill me after possession Ginny and luring her to the Chamber of Secret. I killed the basilisk with the sword of Griffindore and used a tooth from the basilisk to stab and destroy your diary.” The tone in Potter´s voice was bitter and Riddle got the feeling he wouldn´t be getting a more detailed account of that story.

“Ginny?” Riddle couldn´t place the name.

“Ginny Weasley. She is the younger sister of my best friend Ron. We dated for a while in school before I ended it after graduation.”

Riddle nodded. He could remember the boy. There was a girl as well, a muggle born witch.

“There was a girl as well, wasn´t there?” he asked.

Potter nodded. “Hermione. She and Ron married last year. He works at the Ministry and she is a healer at St. Mungo´s.” He hesitated. “I guess you´ll meet them in due time.”

Oh, Riddle couldn´t wait for that. “I don´t see that as being a happy encounter seeing as I´ve tried to kill both them and their families,” he remarked, smirking slightly. Potter seemed to forget whom he was at times and how many people he had killed during his time.

Potter flinched. It seemed he suddenly remembered whom he was talking to. Then he took a large sip from his glass and shrugged. “Neither do I, but I´m stuck with you.”

Riddle nodded. Yes, they were stuck with each other. For more reasons than Potter knew of. For better or worse. He was willing to wager it would be more for worse than better.


	19. Chapter 19

The splitting headache he had the next day, almost made him regret drinking as much as he had, but he had managed to sleep through the night for the first time in a long time. It hadn´t been the best sleep in the world, but it had been better than nothing.

At the moment he was sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table staring at his breakfast while trying to decide if he was going to try and eat it or not. He wasn´t all that sure it would stay down.

“Tom, if you want some of that breakfast get to it. I have to deliver you to Dumbledore before my first class.” The voice drifted into the living room from Potter´s bedroom.

Grimacing he grabbed a piece of toast and put some butter on it before slowly chewing and swallowing it. When it looked like it would stay down, he took a piece of bacon and egg along with some tomatoes and cheese. He managed to get through a third of the plate before Potter emerged from his bedroom. Slowly he finished of the pumpkin juice.

“Come on. I don´t think you´ll want Dumbledore to wait for you.”

Riddle sighed and rose to his feet. “I´m not sure he can get more angry than he already is,” he muttered grabbing the cloak Potter was holding out and putting it around his shoulders. He was actually dreading to met Dumbledore. This time he was pretty sure his punishment wouldn´t be to organize the library or help out one of the other professors.

“Well, whatever the punishment is, you do deserve it. It´s not like the rules are all that complicated and you are supposed to be one of the smartest wizards of our time. I only have one class to day and I said I´d be back to collect you after.”

Riddle shot him a nasty look, and was rewarded with a punishing sting from the bond.

The door to their rooms closed behind them as Potter led the way towards the Headmaster´s office. Riddle trailing behind.

The gargoyle moved aside as they approached and Potter more or less pushed Riddle up the stairs with a hand at the small of his back. Riddle wanted to protest at being treated as a child, but couldn´t find the energy. Potter knocked on the door, and shoved Riddle inside as Dumbledore called for them to enter.

“Good morning, Albus,” Riddle heard Potter´s voice behind him. “I´ll be of then, I´m late for my class.” With that the door closed behind him, leaving Riddle alone with the Headmaster.

For once in his life Riddle actually felt a small pang of fear. The magic surrounding the Headmaster was as dark as night, gleaming with anger and fury. He knew half the reason was because Riddle had managed to figure out two of Dumbledore´s well kept secrets, the other half because he had disobeyed the rules, again.

The bond pushed at him to kneel as usual and Riddle let him self sink down to the floor. Placing his hands in his lap and focusing his eyes on a point on the carpet. It was actually getting easier to kneel. He wondered if it had something to do with the bond or if the situation was just getting familiar.

“Headmaster,” he muttered politely. He rose again but stayed by the door. He had figured out the bond only required him to kneel, not to stay kneeling. He was free to get back up afterwards.

“Come here.” The voice sounded like Antarctica. Riddle half expected the room to freeze over by the voice. Slowly he moved until he was in front of the desk. The desk was filled with scrolls and papers, as well as a bowl of lemon drop and other trinkets.

Dumbledore was seated behind the desk, drumming the fingers of his right hand on the desktop. “The rules we have set in place, are they all that hard to follow?”

Riddle stayed silent.

“I´m taking that as a no. It´s seems you need yet another reminder of your place in all of this.”

Riddle could feel his anger rising against his will and the condescending tone.

“Yes,” he snapped. “My place in all of this! A place I did not chose, nor wanted.” The bond immediately punished him for snapping at Dumbledore, but Riddle ignored the pain.

“What did you expect, Albus, that I would roll over and accept this?” Riddle knew he was walking down a very dangerous path, but he couldn´t bring him self to care. Perhaps it was due to the fact that he probably wasn´t sober yet, or it was the numbing feeling of the hangover that drove him. “That I´d turn into an obedient little pet? How long have you known me?!” He couldn´t remember ever raising his voice to Dumbledore before, but at the moment he couldn´t give damn.

Dumbledore said nothing, just stared at him, his blue eyes cold as ice.

“Yes,” he said after a little while, “I do know you. I hoped you would adapt to the situation. It seemed like you were for a while. We have not mistreated you, asked much of you considering your official status. Harry could decide to take all his meals in the Great Hall, forcing you to come with him and showing to all the students and professors where your place is. He could command you to wait on him hand and foot, or drag you through Diagon Alley on a leash in stead of putting a ‘notice-me-not’ charm on you.” The threat was clear as day. Riddle had to be blind and deaf to miss it.

“I could hand you back over to the Ministry if you prefer, who would find a new master for you. The Minister himself seemed quite taken with you, perhaps you would prefer to belong to him? I´m sure you remember the Ministry´s way of training slaves?”

No, Riddle thought, he really didn´t want anything to do with the Minister.

“The Death Eaters are not coming for you, not now, not in the future. The sooner you actually comes to term with your position the better it would be for all of us.” Dumbledore underlined his words by slamming his palm down on the desk. The sound sounded impossible loud in the large office.

Riddle struggled not to wince at the harsh words. A feeling of hopelessness rose in him and he did his best to shove the feeling away. He glared at Dumbledore.

The headmaster rose, pulling out his wand as he came around the desk. Riddle eyed the wand warily. He was starting to get a bad feeling about the whole thing. He took a step backwards, then another.

“What are the punishment going to be this time?” he sneered, wincing in pain at the bond. “Another library that needs to be organized or perhaps you want me to write lines or sit in a corner for a time-out?”

The smile on the headmasters face was anything but calming. Riddle could feel himself growing cold.

“I think we´re passed the childish punishments, don´t you?”

No, Riddle thought. Not until he knew what the not childish punishments were. He looked from the wand to Dumbledore´s face and back down. Dumbledore stood in front of the desk, his arms crossed over his chest, wand in his right hand.

“Then what?” he asked, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice.

Dumbledore waved his wand in a quick motion and muttered something Riddle couldn´t catch. For a second nothing happened then Riddle could feel the bond activate sending him crashing to the ground as pain washed over him. He managed not to scream as the pain came in quick waves, the next one more powerful than the previous. He gasped and curled into himself. He had forgotten how painful the bond could be when activated. Slowly he tried to breathe through the pain, clenching his eyes shut and biting the inside of his cheek to avoid screaming. Tears were forming in his eyes as the pain twisted and changed, make it feel like his whole body was on fire. After what felt like an eternity he could see the darkness creeping into his vision and he felt himself blackout.

He came to with a gasp. Trembling and shaking on the floor as he tried to get his breathing under control. Slowly he opened his eyes and saw Dumbledore sitting on the desk, with his wand still in his hand. He seemed to consider something before raising his wand again.

Pain came crashing back and this time Riddle couldn´t help the scream that escaped from him. It felt like needles where pressed into his skin. He twisted and turned and at one point he smashed his right arm into the floor with such force he swore he could hear something break. The only fortunate thing was that the darkness came quicker this time.

The second time he came to he felt like he had been used as a punching bag for a couple of giants. His right hand hurt like hell and he couldn´t move his fingers. The rest of his body felt like it couldn´t decide if it was still alive or not. He tried to get his breathing under control, but that seemed to be a lost concept as he couldn´t stop heaving. For a moment he thought what little he had eaten for breakfast was going to come back up. He was shaking like a tree in a storm and he couldn´t manage to get his head up from the floor.

He looked up and met the blue eyes of the headmaster. They were ice cold and his magic had not changed. As he watched he saw the headmaster raise his wand once more and Riddle closed his eyes.

***

Harry walked into the office and saw Dumbledore sitting calmly behind his desk, writing on something. A quick look around revealed the unconscious former dark lord that had been placed on the couch.

“He´s still out?” Harry took a seat in one of the visitor’s chairs.

Dumbledore looked up from his work and sighed. “Yes. I haven´t brought him around yet.”

“How many times did you put him under?”

Dumbledore removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Three.”

Harry nodded. “That should be more than enough to beat some sense into that stubborn head of his.”

“I hope this work, because this was not something I enjoyed doing even though I´m quite cross with him after yesterday,” Dumbledore said, putting his glassed back on. “I hope this plan of yours using, what did the muggles call it again?”

“Bad cop, good cop strategy.” Harry smirked at the confused look on Dumbledore´s face. He probably didn´t know what a cop was.

“Yes, that. I hope it works. The Ministry will expect you to bring him out in public soon to show of ‘our’ victory. We can´t keep hiding him here. He will be expected to behave a certain way in public. The last thing we need is for the Ministry to find a reason to raise questions if you are competent as his master.”

Harry nodded and looked over at the figure on the couch. Yes, everything did come down to them being able to control the dark haired youth. The thought of handing him over to the Ministry didn´t seem right.

“I´ll take him back to our rooms and wake him up. He will need the rest of the day to recover. I got some pain-reducing potion to give him to take the edge of. Hopefully we won´t have to repeat this.”


	20. Chapter 20

The simple movement of opening his eyes hurt, as did everything else. He tried to lift his hand, but found he couldn´t find the energy. Closing his eyes he let himself drift of.

When he woke again he didn´t feel any better. The pain lingered in his body and was making him tremble and shake. He was aware he was win his bed and he could feel another presence in the room without opening his eyes.

The person had apparently noticed he came to because he could feel him, he assumed it was Potter, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Drink this.” A vial was pressed against his lips and he raised his head enough to manage to swallow whatever it was. Pain-reducing potion by the taste of it. He could feel the potion spreading around his body, reducing the pain, but not making it go away completely.

A hand touched his hair, pushing it away from his forehead. The gesture sent a warm feeling through his body as the bond all but hummed in approval at the touch. “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible,” Riddle rasped. Even speaking hurt. He curled up further, pulling the cover better around himself. If this was how his Death Eaters felt after being subjected to the Cruciatus curse he could start to understand why they rarely disobeyed him.

“The potion will help reduce the pain. I´ll mend your arm when you´re up and about again. I didn´t want to put more strain on your body.”

Arm? Riddle tried to move them and opened his eyes to see that his right arm was in a cast from the elbow down to the hand. He vaguely remembered smashing it against the floor of Dumbledore´s office. Apparently he had broken or at least sprained it. He let his eyes close again. His body felt completely drained of all energy.

“Sleep.”

Yes, Riddle thought, sleep sounded good.

***

He drifted in and out of sleep for most of the day. The pain lingered but started to fade as the day crept towards evening. Potter had given him two more vials of pain-reducing potion, a calming draught and a pepper-up potion. It helped take the edge of and allowed him to sleep.

The sound of the door opening woke him again and he opened his eyes to see Dumbledore enter the room. An unfamiliar feeling of wariness spread through him at the sight of the man. At least he didn´t have a wand in his hand this time. Riddle managed to push him self into a sitting position, leaning against the wall the bed stood against.

Dumbledore stopped in front of the bed, crossing his arms over his chest. For a moment he said nothing. Riddle tried to keep eye contact but found it impossible and lowered his eyes to his left hand that he was picking at the cast on his right with.

“How are you feeling?”

Riddle glanced up. “Better.”

Dumbledore nodded, uncrossing his arms and pulling his wand from his sleeve.

Riddle could feel his pulse quicken at the sight of the wand. What now? He looked from the wand to Dumbledore´s eyes and back down. Dumbledore came closer to the bed and sat down on the edge. Riddle had to stop himself from edging away from the man.

“Your arm.” Dumbledore held out his hand and gestured for Riddle to hold out his right arm, which he did, although slowly. Dumbledore waved his wand and Riddle could feel the broken bone in his arm grow together. It didn´t hurt, it was mostly unpleasant. Then the cast fell away. Dumbledore let go of his hand and put the wand away.

The older man stood and walked towards the door. “I´ll tell Harry your awake.”

Potter came in a couple of minutes later with a tray in his hands, something that looked like soup and bread balancing on it.

“You look better,” he smiled sitting down on the bed where Dumbledore had been sitting and holding the tray out towards Riddle, who accepted, placing it in his lap. Chicken soup by the smell of it and freshly baked bread.

“Thank you.” His voice still sounded like gravel.

“Dumbledore fixed you hand? Good. I´m not the best with healing spells so I asked him to do it. How is the pain?” Potter leaned against the headboard of the bed and pulled one of his legs up on the bed. He pulled it up to his chest and rested his right arm over it.

“Manageable.”

The soup was good, creamy and heavy. His hand shook a little as he lifted the spoon, but not enough to spill the content on the spoon. He tore of a piece of bread and dipped it in the soup.

“We have been invited to spend Christmas Day with Ron and Hermione.”

Riddle chocked on the bread he had just swallowed and had to cough a couple of times to dislodge it. The way Potter had worded the sentence almost made it sound like they were a couple discussing plans for Christmas.

“You okay?” Potter looked at him with concern.

Riddle managed to nod.

“Try to chew your food before swallowing,” Potter teased. “So, about Christmas. Think you can manage to behave for one dinner? Or would you rather stay here?”

Stupid question Riddle thought. He had no interest in being around Potter´s friends, or celebrating Christmas for that matter. “I´ll stay here.”

Potter looked disappointed for some reason Riddle couldn´t figure out. Should think the boy would be happy to spend Christmas with his friends. Alone.

“As you wish.”

Riddle went back to the soup. Potter picked up the book on wandless magic from the nightstand and started leafing through it. The silence wasn´t uncomfortable, Riddle thought. He watched as Potter started reading one of the chapters. His eyes moving back and forth as he read.

Riddle finished the food and put the tray down on the bed. The movement made Potter look up from the book and nodded seemingly pleased at the empty bowl. The tray vanished and Potter put the book back on the nightstand.

“Up for a walk?”


	21. Chapter 21

It turned out that he wasn´t up for a walk. He managed to stay on his feet all of two seconds before the world started to turn black and his legs buckled under him and sent him crashing to the floor.

“I really hate the old fool,” Riddle muttered closing his eyes and waiting for his vision to clear.

“Easy,” Potter said, helping him back up. “He is not all that fond of you either at the moment.”

“I noticed.”

Potter let go of his arm and they both waited to see if Riddle managed to remain standing. Carefully he tried to take a step, then another until it became clear he wouldn´t fall back down again.

“You good?”

Riddle nodded.

“Perhaps a walk isn´t the best idea.”

“I don´t think I´ll fall down again and I need some fresh air.”

Potter didn´t look convinced, but relented. “Fine. I´ll get the cloaks. You see if you can manage to make it to the door without falling down.”

Riddle glared.

He did make it to the door. Barely, but he saw no reason to tell Potter that. Potter did look dubious about the idea but held out Riddle´s black cloak for him when he reached the door.

“A short walk around the grounds then.”

Riddle threw the cloak around himself, fastening it before twirling a scarf around his neck, effectively hiding the collar. Not that he actually cared much about the collar, most times he forgot it was there until he caught one of the students staring at it or one of the teachers. Thank god that the students were going home for Christmas the day after tomorrow. Some would of course remain at Hogwarts, just like he himself had in his time, but at least the majority of them would leave, so would several of the teachers as well. Perhaps he could get Potter to let him go to the library or something when the students left. He was starting to get stir crazy from having nothing to do. Normally his time would have been occupied by trying to figure out how to kill Potter and Dumbledore and plan how to take over the Ministry. Now he spent his time at mindless tasks given by terrified teachers. Come to think of it he was actually impressed the charms teachers hadn´t died from a heart attack yet. Perhaps Riddle should try harder to scare him? There was a thought.

He was torn from his musings as Potters voice.

“I was thinking of going home for Christmas break.”

Home? Riddle hadn´t given any thought to Potter actually having a home, but as Lord Potter he assumed he might have inherited some property when he came of age and took up his Lordship. Then again, his parents had lived in an ordinary house he remembered from the night he tried to kill the bloody-boy-who-refused-to-die. His confusion must have shown because Potter continued as the descended down the stairs.

“I´m also Lord Black, in addition to Lord Potter. The Potter´s didn´t leave any properties, but I did inherit a house when I accepted the Black Lordship.”

Riddle felt his eyes narrow. Yes, he could remember Bellatrix complaining about Potter taking over the Black estate. He hadn´t care himself as it didn´t impact his plans in anyway and Bellatrix herself had not been able to inherit either way as she was married to a Lestrange. He himself was possibly eligible for the Gaunt and Slytherin Lordship, or had been. Slaves couldn´t own anything, he remembered bitterly. Come to think of it, the lordships would probably fall to Potter now, due to the ownership papers, that along with the Riddle heritage. He saw no reason to tell this to Potter however.

“It´s nothing grand, nothing like Malfoy Manor where you have been staying.”

Riddle smirked. Potter hadn´t voiced it as a question, more of a statement. How come Lucius was still walking around, makings his life miserable? The man was still employed at the Ministry for crying out loud. He would love nothing more than to send Lucius to Azkaban for that stunt he had pulled, and then reporting him to the Ministry, making his punishment both public and harsh.

“I would be perfectly happy to testify against Malfoy,” Riddle all but purred, giving Potter a charming smile.

To his surprise Potter laughed. “Trust me, Tom, if that had been possible I would have made you do it a long time ago.”

Riddle frowned. He really hated not being the smartest person in the room. What was he missing this time? To be fair, it wasn´t like he had studied Magical Law as his activities 99% of the time was not in accordance with the Wizarding Law, or the Muggle one for that matter.

“Did you read the book the Dumbledore gave you?” Potter asked.

“I might have jumped over some of the pages,” he admitted after a long silence. The book had been boring as hell. It was more of a how-to-hurt-your-slave and how-a-slave-is-expected-to-behave guideline than a law.

“Like the one about no alcohol?”

_Yes, like that one_, Riddle thought.

Potter sighed. “He made me read the book as well. Anyhow, a slave can not testify against a free person.”

Oh, that did explain why the Ministry preferred to just torture him for four months instead of interrogate him. Any information they got could not been used in court as it would be hearsay and Riddle himself could not testify.

“I might have missed that part,” Riddle conceded.

They had arrived at the entrance hall and walked out through the front gates, coming out into the large courtyard. The night was clear. The stars were shining brightly and the moon rising above the Forbidden Forest making it easy to see where they were going. They entered the bridged and continued across it in silence.

“You stayed at the school over Christmas?”

“Yes.” Riddle saw no reason to give any more details.

“Me too.”

Riddle frowned. Why? He assumed Potter had a family to return to. The damned blood wards had after all made it impossible to find or reach the boy during the holidays.

The magic around Potter twisted with something dark and dangerous as he spoke, giving Riddle the impression perhaps everything had not been as good for his young master as Snape had let him believe. He didn´t ask however.

They walked in silence, wandering along the border of the forbidden forest. It was strangely comfortable, Riddle thought. He hated to admit it, but he did enjoy being back at Hogwarts. It was the one place he had ever called home and the castled welcomed him as he was (or had been perhaps) the Heir of Slytherin. The castle didn´t seem to care about his status.

“What happened to my Death Eaters?”

Potter sighed.

Riddle stopped and turned to stare directly at the annoying child.

“I´m stuck here, with you, because of what you did. The least you can do is to tell me what happened to my followers.”

He could see Potter was getting annoyed without looking at his magic. However before he could give more arguments there was the sound of flapping wings and Fawkes appeared, landing on Potter´s shoulder. Riddle frowned. The damned bird, he just had to show up now. The letter the bird held in his beak was dropped into Potter´s hand before the bird disappeared.

Potter opened the note. Riddle could see the frown starting to appear on his forehead before Potter looked up from the note. His magic turned dark. “We have to get back to the castle.”

Before Riddle could manage to ask why, Potter was already several meters in front of him and he had to hurry to catch up.

“Why?” he demanded, only to be punished by the bond for his tone.

Potter didn´t answer. Annoyed Riddle couldn´t do much else, except following him back into the castle.

The people in the entrance hall had multiplied since they left, Riddle noted. Dumbledore was there along with Severus, Minerva, the Minster, two Aurors Riddle didn´t recognize, and one person Riddle however did know all too well.

Potter walked straight over to the group, while Riddle stopped just inside the front door. Eyes locked on the one person he had hoped never to see again.


	22. Chapter 22

He watched as Potter shook hand with the three people the boy didn´t know before the group fell into silence as the Minister talked, gesticulated and was clearly explaining something or another. The rest of the group nodded and Dumbledore said something with a hand towards the stairs. Riddle assumed he wanted the conversation to be moved up into his office as the hallway was still lingering with students. 

Riddle tried to ignore two terrified looking Huffelpuff students that came through the entrance doors, stopping when they saw him before turning and disappearing outside again. The Slytherins that came after only glared before hurrying past him towards the stairs leading to the dungeon. 

He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. Why was Marcus DeLancer at Hogwarts? The man had no business at the school as far as Riddle knew. Unless. A thought hit him and he opened his eyes only to see Potter and DeLancer walking towards him. Behind them the rest of the group disappearing up the stairs. 

A slight feeling of panic gripped at him, and he tried to force it down as the two wizards came close. His eyes wandering from Potter to the tall man beside him as he wondered yet again why the blasted man was in the castle in the first place. 

DeLancer was tall, taller than Riddle, somewhere in his fifties if Riddle were to guess with salt and pepper hair and piercing blue eyes. Riddle met his eyes and held his gaze, seeing the displeasure the man was feeling bleed into his magic at Riddle action. Good. 

“Tom, I have to attend a meeting. Mr. DeLancer here has been kind enough to offer to escort you up to the room.” Potter waived a hand towards the older man beside him, looking distracted as he spoke. His magic had turned dark once more and was twirling rapidly. “I´ll have the house elf bring up supper if I´m not back before then.” With that he turned and left just as Riddle opened his mouth to protest at being left alone with DeLancer. 

Riddle closed his mouth and pushed down the feeling of wanting to run after Potter and ask him to please don´t leave him alone with DeLancer. He wouldn´t want to appear weak. Or weaker was perhaps the right word. He looked at the other wizard. 

“Shall we?” DeLancer smiled and made a gesture towards the stairs. 

Riddle closed his eyes before pushing away from the wall and leading the way up the stairs. He led the way through the corridors and stairs until they reached the door leading into the rooms. DeLancer had not said a word the whole walk, which Riddle was grateful for, but it also made him uneasy. He really hoped DeLancer would just drop him of outside the room, but the doubted it. The man wanted something, he always did. 

He gave the door the required password and walk in as DeLancer pulled the door open and motioned for him to enter. He could feel the panic starting up again as DeLancer followed him in. 

Inside DeLancer looked around and nodded to himself. He walked over to the kitchen area, looked into the two bedrooms and the bathroom before returning to the living room just as Riddle finished hanging up his cloak. He turned around and watched as DeLancer came back into the living room, his magic pleased and filled with the darkness Riddle remember all to well, along with the same sadistic gleam that had always been there. 

“Still as defiant as always,” the man purred as he came closer, making Riddle back away. Riddle swallowed as he hit the wall while DeLancer kept advancing. The man smiled as he lifted a hand towards Riddle´s face, which Riddle dodged only to have the man wrap his hand around his neck and pressing him against the wall. 

The force of the hand pressing against the scarf and the collar cut of his air supply and he struggled to get air into his lungs. He lifted his hands to try and pry the offending hand of his throat only to have both his slender wrists caught by DeLancers other, much larger hand, and pressed against the wall over his head, effectively pinning him in place. 

The panic grew as he couldn´t breath and he considered kicking the man. The intent must have shown, for DeLancer laughed. 

“Please, do lash out at me. In which case the bond will activate and I´ll be forced to call Lord Potter here and inform him that you attacked me with out provocation. That, along with the rest of the stunts you have pulled and your general disrespect for you betters will be enough for the Minister to revoke the ownership Lord Potter currently enjoys in order for a hearing to be held to determine if he is to be seen as a competent owner.” 

Riddle stilled. Damned if you do, damned if you don´t, he thought. 

The grip on his throat disappeared and he pulled air into his lungs in gasps. He hated feeling so helpless. He couldn´t do anything to the man in front of him with out causing himself pain, and making the whole situation worse by having him claim that he attacked him. Riddle knew the Minister would use any excuse he could find to bring him back. The man had been reluctant to let him go in the first place. 

If it hadn´t been for the damned bond the man before him would be long tortured and dead in the most painful way Riddle could manage to invent. He settled for glaring, which earned him a backhand across the face. His bottom lip caught on his teeth and he could feel the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. He blinked to clear his vision just as DeLancer lifted his hand again and gripped him around his chin forcing his head forwards and upwards. 

“It´s seems Lord Potter is quite lenient in his treatment of you if you behaviour is anything to go bye. “ 

Riddle kept quiet. Arguing with the man had never brought anything good. Instead he met his gaze and held it, knowing it would annoy the man. It did as he could see the irritation in eyes at Riddle´s lack of response to his taunts. Then the irritation disappeared and was replaced by something more sinister. 

“Perhaps I should tell Lord Potter how I finally did manage to bring you to heel?” the man asked, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face as he let his thumb slide of Riddle´s bottom lip. Riddle considered biting the offending digit as full blown panic rose in him, but that would give him the same result as if he was to kick DeLancer. In stead he struggled to free his hands, which only made DeLancer chuckle and tighten his grip, making Riddle wince as pain shot through him. 

“The law forbids you from laying a hand on me,” he finally sneered. Merlin he was pathetic when he was hiding behind the law, he thought, disgusted. 

DeLancer must have thought the same thing for the man laughed. “Really? You are referring to the law? The same wizarding law you have been breaking since you were sixteen? How is that for irony?” 

Riddle gritted his teeth. Why the hell at Potter let DeLancer follow him back? Why had Dumbledore for that matter? Dumbledore at least should know who DeLancer was, even of Potter might be blind to it. 

The hand that was not pinning his wrists to the wall came up to card through his hair before sliding down his cheek. Riddle tried to dislodge the hand by moving which resulted in another in another backhand across his face, this time the force behind the slap was even greater and Riddle could feel his vision darken and his head slammed back into the wall just as DeLancer let go of his wrists. Disoriented Riddle slid down the wall until he was kneeling on the floor. He just one hand to support his weight while the other cradled his head. He pulled it away from the back of his head and was not surprised to see blood on it. His vision started to clear, just as a hand entangled itself in his hair and pulled his head up, a wand pressing against his throat. 

“Now, are you going to behave?” DeLancer crouched down and again let his hand run over his chin and mouth. Riddle was still trying to ignore the pain in his face and head and the black dots dancing in front of his eyes and almost missed the question. 

He caught up as DeLancer repeated the question in a more irritated voice. Not seeing any other option Riddle nodded as well as he could manage with the hand twisted in his hair. 

“Remember the lesson about words?” 

Riddle closed his eyes and force back the insult he wanted to make, knowing it would not go over well with the other man. Words yes, not the man cared much for words, except a few ones. 

“I´m waiting.” 

Riddle answered without opening his eyes. Forcing the words out against his will, hoping it would be enough to get the man to leave and knowing it wouldn´t. 

“Yes, sir.” 

***

He awoke to the sound of a house elf popping into the room with a tray. Confused he looked at it as it placed the tray on the table before approaching him slowly. It was the first time he had seen one of the house elves. Normally they popped in and out with food without being seen. The green creature appeared to be female and Riddle noticed it was wearing the Potter emblem on its tunica, marking it as a private house elf and not one of Hogwarts. It looked at him with concern, which Riddle found amusing. He was still on the floor, curled against the wall where DeLancer had left him. 

The two last days had been more than enough to drain him of all his energy and he had simply not found the strength to get up from the floor. Instead he had simply curled up against the wall and let exhaustion claim him. Something he did regret as he tried to move and discovered his whole body hurt. 

The little green creature came closer, stopping a couple of feet away. 

“Is Master´s servant all right?” 

Riddle snorted at the phrasing. Well, he guessed servant was better than slave or pet. 

“No,” he answered truthfully while using the wall to climb to his feet. He swayed for a moment and closed his eyes against the wave of nausea that washed over him from rising to his feet too quickly. It passed and when he opened them he looking into to very concerned green eyes. 

“Tiffy will get Master,” the house elf said, but Riddle managed to shout “NO!” before she popped away. 

The elf, Tiffy, titled her head to one side. “Tiffy has strict orders to tell Master if Master´s Servant is unwell. Tiffy is a good house elf.” 

The last thing Riddle wanted was to see Potter. He flashed the elf a charming smile, knowing he was failing completely at it. “I´m feeling much better, Tiffy. Thank you. There is no reason to disturb P-,” he cut himself of and tried again. “Master.” 

Thankfully the elf seemed to believe him. “Tiffy had brought supper as Master ordered.” With that she disappeared. 

Riddles sighed in relief. He walked over to the table and looked at the tray with foods, not feeling the least hungry. Instead he headed for the bathroom. He needed a shower and a bed. 

As he looked in the mirror he realised he would have come up with an explanation as to why his face and throat was bruised and his lip cut. He hung his head. His whole body was spent and tired. His muscles aching and he felt more tired than he could remember being in ages. Quickly he pulled of the clothes and entered the shower, letting the water wash over him. He didn´t know how long he had been standing there, but at some point it felt like he was going to fall asleep standing and he shut of the water and dried himself of. Half asleep he made his way to his room and pulled on some pants and a t-shirt before falling into bed and closing his eyes.


	23. Chapter 23

“Tom. Tom, come on, wake up.” The voice sounded insistent and Riddle thought he could hear someone screaming as well. He opened his eyes and pulled away from Potter who was sitting on the edge of the bed, a hand on Riddle´s shoulder and a concerned look on his face. Riddle drew in a breath, feeling sweat pouring of him and his pulse racing.

Who had been screaming? He looked around the room but quickly came to the conclusion it most likely had been himself. He lifted a hand to drag it across his face, brushing away the hairs that were now sticking to his forehead. Another nightmare then, he thought. As usual he couldn’t remember anything, but from the concerned look on Potter´s face it seemed like it had been worse than usual.

“I´m fine,” he muttered, rubbing at his eyes with his hands. He looked up and saw Potter move so that he was leaning against the headboard with his feet stretched out on the bed in front of him. Getting comfortable apparently.

“They seem to be getting worse,” the younger wizard remarked. Riddle couldn´t comment on that, he never remembered anything, but from the way his throat hurt it seemed like he might have done a lot of screaming, or it could be from the unpleasant encounter with DeLancer. It was hard to tell.

“You want to talk about it?”

“No.” Even if he did, he didn´t remember anything, and even if he had, Potter wouldn´t be at the top of the list of people he wanted to talk to. Come to think of it, he wouldn´t be on the list at all

Potter sighed, managing to sound both disappointed and defeated at the same time. “Fine. Try to go back to sleep, I´ll stay until you do.”

Riddle wanted to snap and tell him to get the bloody hell out of the room and that he wasn´t some child who needed a parent to watch him fall back to sleep in order to keep the monsters at bay. However he didn´t. He didn´t do anything. He simply allowed himself to lay back down and drift of to sleep, trying not to think to much about the comforting hand carding through his hair, one that he wanted to beat away but couldn´t find the energy to.

***

He woke to the strange feeling of someone else in his bed. Wary he opened his eyes and saw that Potter had fallen asleep on the bed beside him. He was laying on his back, one arm across his stomach and the other one in sprawled out towards Riddle, nearly touching him. At some point the Gryffindor had summoned, or fetched, a blanket that was draped over him and a pillow that was nestled under his head.

Riddle watched as Potter´s breathed in and out, clearly still deep asleep.

It was a strange feeling. This was the first time he had ever woken up to someone else in his bed. Not that he hadn´t had his share of lovers, both male and female, over the course of time, but none had been allowed to stay. He didn´t trust people close to him as he slept. At the present moment he didn´t have much of a choice as he couldn´t order Potter out of his room. On the other hand, Potter would hardly harm him during the night. Potter normally went back to his own bed after coaxing Riddle back to sleep, or fell asleep in an armchair next to the bed. This was the first time the young man had fallen asleep on the bed.

The lightning formed scar was barely visible under the hair that was sticking up in all directions. Riddle studied it. He felt drawn to the boy, most likely because of the Horcrux that resided in him. Strange that Dumbledore hadn´t seen reason to divulge to the boy that he carried a piece of Voldemort´s soul inside him. He wondered for a moment if there was anything to gain from telling the boy about it, but other than angering Dumbledore he didn´t think there was. And seeing as Dumbledore was past childish punishments and seemed to have embraced the more painful ones, Riddle wasn´t too keen on crossing the old fool again so soon.

His eyes wandered further down, over closed eyelids that concealed green eyes. Over the perfectly shaped nose and lips before trailing further down to the hand that was resting on his stomach. The boy was good looking, there was not denying that. Strange really that he hadn´t found a wife or girlfriend, but Riddle assumed that fighting a dark lord might not leave much time for such things. Being both Lord Potter and Black should make the boy attractive as a match for any pureblood family. Even the Malfoys couldn´t turn their nose up at the boy´s pedigree. Although an argument could be given that he was only a half blood, but the power from the lines he carried would outweigh that problem. And even the purebloods knew, although they were not willing to openly admitting to it, that they needed fresh blood to keep their lines from getting to inbred. Like the Gaunts had done, Riddle thought bitterly. Remember his crazed family on his mother´s side.

He was drawn from his musings by the sound of a knock on his door before it opened, revealing Dumbledore.

“Tom? Have you seen-“ The Headmaster stopped short at seeing both Riddle and Potter in the same bed, Potters hand nearly touching Riddle´s head where Riddle lay curled on his side, facing Potter.

The sound of the voice woke Potter who came to with a groan, lifting his right arm to rub at his eyes.

“Headmaster,” Potter greeted as he pushed himself up into a siting position, the blanket pooling in his lap.

At least he was dressed in his sleeping wear, Riddle thought as he sat up as well, leaning against wall.

“Harry, may I have a word.” It wasn´t a question, Riddle noted. Dumbledore looked strangely concerned, which seemed to double as the older man looked over at Riddle and took in the bruises on his cheek and neck as well as swollen and split lip. Riddle swallowed a smirk.

The headmaster turned and left the room, leaving the door open behind him. Back in the bed Potter picked up his glasses from the nightstand and quickly looked over at Riddle who tilted his head slightly to the side. He expected Potter to ask about the bruises, which he surprisingly didn´t. In stead Potter threw the blanket of and disappeared out the room.

Curious Riddle followed him but stopped jus shy of the door so that he couldn´t been seen from the two people in the living room.

“-sleep. That´s all. He had another nightmare.” He heard Potter say, probably answering a question from Dumbledore about his chosen sleeping place for the night.

“Just be careful, Harry. Another matter that needs to be addressed is that we are running late for our meeting.”

Riddle could hear Potter swear. “I´ll get dressed. Get Tom to put on some clothes, he has to come with us, I don´t have time to return and get him.” The last part was shouted as Potter apparently moved to his bedroom to change.

Not interested in being caught eavesdropping, Riddle moved back to the bed and pretended to just having gotten out when Dumbledore showed up in the doorway.

“Get dressed, please.” The voice was polite, but somewhat strained.

Riddle lifted an eyebrow. “Where are we going, Headmaster?”

“The Ministry.”

***

If there was one building in Britain Riddle would be happy to never set a foot in again, it was the Ministry of Magic. They arrived by floo to the great entrance hall. As it was close to the Christmas Holiday or Yule, it was mostly deserted, something Riddle was relived to note. He didn´t mind all that much being on display, but the less attention the better.

A large Christmas tree had been placed in the middle of the room, it´s top almost touching the glass roof. Between the different fireplaces, smaller trees had been set up. Snow crystals floated in the air above them, something that seemed to annoy the various paper planes that were buzzing to and from as they frequently collided with one or several of the crystals.

The statues that he had destroyed during his duel with Dumbledore several years earlier stood tall and it seemed like nothing had ever touched them. Strange how different things could have gone that night if he had known at the time that Potter was his horcrux. Then he would not have been in the position he was in now. Bound and collared and stripped of everything. _But alive_, a small voice whispered. Yes, alive, but at what cost, and was it worth it?

“Tom?”

Riddle snapped out of his thoughts at the slight tug on his collar and Potter´s voice. He focused on the other boy (man perhaps now?) and realised he might have missed a question.

Potter was once more dressed in the more official robes of the Potter family and his lordship ring was on his right hand, a beautiful looking winter coat over his shoulders, done in black with fur along the neck and hem, and trimmings in the red and blue colours of the Potter coat of arms. The official clothing made him look older, more mature and his magic twisted and twirled once again with a familiar darkness. Riddle was starting to wonder of Potter had a split personality or if he actually was that good of an actor.

Before Potter could repeat his question, or sentence, or what ever Riddle had missed, they were interrupted by the arrival of the Minister and two Aurors, as well as DeLancer.

Riddle could feel something akin to panic settle over him. He didn´t know why they were at the Ministry this time, there hadn´t been any time for explanations, but from what he had overheard from the conversation between Potter and Dumbledore he doubted it had anything to do with him this time.

“Minister, apologises for being late.” Potter greeted politely.

“Lord Potter, Headmaster. No worry. I received your patronus regarding your slave that you had to bring him with you due to later engagements. Unfortunately I can´t allow him to be present at the meeting, but DeLancer here has volunteered to look after him for the duration of the meeting, unless you want us to lock him in one of the cells?”

The man sounded anything but sorry.

“I´m sure Tom will be perfectly fine with Mr. DeLancer,” Dumbledore injected before Potter could say anything. “Very kind of you to volunteer, Mr. DeLancer,” he added and shook the blasted man´s hand.

Riddle badly wanted to ask to be put in the cell instead but assumed that would be a poor decision. Did Dumbledore do this on purpose or did he really not know who DeLancer was? He assumed Potter didn´t but he thought Dumbledore did as the man had picked him up from Azkaban.

The damned panic would go away either and he found himself fidgeting for the first time in ages.

“Very kind,” Potter said. He sounded genuine and there was nothing in his magic that contradicted the tone of his voice.

DeLancer stepped forwards and shook Potter´s hand as well before accepting the leash from Potter. He smiled a warm smile as he answered. “Of course. I´m assuming your property will be much more combatable in my office with a book than in one of the holding cells.”

Somehow Riddle doubted that.

“Shall we? The others are waiting.” The Minister asked and ushered Potter and Dumbledore away towards the elevators.


End file.
